


Marks of a Leader

by Jme_Senpai



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Abuse, Drama, Exhaustion, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Hero Worship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rival Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-09-19 05:30:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9420731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jme_Senpai/pseuds/Jme_Senpai
Summary: Consumed by his determination to ensure that the team is left in good hands, Shiro pushes Keith past his breaking point, and Lance is left to pick up the pieces.





	1. Chapter 1

“Start training simulation Level 7.”

The bowels of the ship groaned deeply as the training arena flickered to life, almost as though the castle itself was begrudgingly stirring from its slumber just a few hours too early. At just such a time, even its most rowdy of occupants were typically subdued, lulled to sleep by the constant whir of machinery that none of them could really explain, cocooned in the dry, crisp, cool atmosphere of recycled air reminiscent of the commercial planes in the days of old Earth...the spotless expanse of the castle's interior was visible only by the faint glow of the emergency lighting, enough to keep one's footing steady, but nothing more. Everything was still, quiet, save for the hum of holographic technology as the arena lit itself up.

At the command, Keith's eyes narrowed in a way too subtle to really catch from a distance, his gaze straying to one side only for a moment before honing in on the simulation in front of him. Three droids were deployed to the battlefield, but he steeled his resolve nonetheless, drawing his bayard down across his body to unsheathe the blade and positioning himself at the ready. It was how he began every fight; a moment to draw his breath, center himself.

Across from him, the droids raised their weapons, analyzing his movements. Keith shifted his back foot slightly, his grip tightening around the hilt of his bayard...and he lunged, the sound of steel resonating throughout the arena as the nearest of the programs parried his blade. He jumped backwards to put some distance between them during his recovery, and not a moment too soon – hastily, he deflected an attack from his right flank, the impact upsetting his footing briefly...he caught himself, ducking to avoid a follow-up attack from his left. He nicked the closest sentry with the tip of his bayard, but it wasn't enough to fell the hologram, and he realized his miscalculation a half-step later than he should have. In a blur of movement, he found himself suddenly rolling across the polished floor of the arena, scrambling to his feet again in time to block another attack.

“Keith, come on! You can do this...focus!”

He didn't chance another look over at the stoic physique at the outskirts of the training grounds, but the stern demand renewed his determination. He adjusted his grip on his bayard, holding it in reverse, and ducked several close-range blows from one of the droids before retaliating...he managed to land a fatal strike, but no sooner had the sentry dissolved back into data, he felt a hard blast to his back that sent him reeling again.

Groaning, he stirred, then hastily rolled out of the way moments before he was impaled by a blade...lashing out, he managed to disarm one of his remaining opponents, but the next thing he knew, he was being wrenched up by his arm.

Closing one eye in discontent, he found himself dangling limply as the sentry held him in the air by his wrist, its weapon poised. The upper level training sims were nearly twice his size, his wiry frame decidedly small in contrast to his opponents as he was thrown to the ground at their feet and kicked, curling up on his side.

“Keith...come on! Get up!”

Gritting his teeth, Keith rolled out of the way again to dodge another blow and begrudgingly obliged, getting to his feet again. He parried several attacks from both the sentries at once, though he was forced to take a step backwards each time he deflected...moving before thinking, he ducked beneath a swinging sword and drove his own weapon up into the mechanical joints of one of the drones. It short-circuited, twitching for a moment or so before dissipating entirely.

Wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, Keith found himself with only a moment to catch his breath before the final assailant attacked him again. They fought hard, equally matched, until at last, Keith disarmed the sentry completely and, with a final heave of his blade, cleaved it in two.

As the final hologram disintegrated, the sound of labored breathing was all that was left echoing around the arena...pausing to wipe a slight trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, Keith straightened up, his expression satisfied. None of them had faced any of the training sims above Level 5 until now.

“How was that?” he inquired, draping a towel around the back of his neck as he made his way to the edge of the training floor, his black shirt damp and clinging to his frame as he approached. “For a moment there, I thought the three of them were going to be too much.”

From the sidelines, Shiro offered the younger paladin a slight smile, clamping a hand down firmly upon Keith's shoulder.

“Not bad,” he said, nodding. “I told you that you could do it.”

In spite of his confidence, the grin Keith offered was distinctly lacking in his usual cockiness, wide and basking instead in the glow of a mentor's approval.

“Yeah,” he agreed, looking up at Shiro. “You did.”

Shiro nodded, but his smile faded as he did so, grip tightening just a little on Keith's shoulder. “All right. Let's get you back in there.”

Faltering, Keith unfolded his arms, finding himself keenly aware of the throbbing throughout various parts of his body all of a sudden. “Wh-wha-?”

It wasn't the first demand Shiro had made of him in these situations, of course, but this time...he'd thought that _this_ time, surely, after besting a Level 7 simulation...

Shiro's visage was stern as he gazed down upon the young man, and Keith found any voice of protest dying in his throat. Doubt clouded his features as he turned back toward the training sim, but it was laced with determination...to measure his abilities against his own expectations was rarely a chance he cared to turn down, and if Shiro had as much faith in him, well...

Ignoring the various aches about his form, he nodded firmly to Shiro before turning to head back to the center of the arena, his bayard gripped tightly at his side. His eyes drifted shut where he stood, bracing himself, and he listened for the sound of Shiro's voice nearby.

“I'm ready.”

“Start training simulation Level 10!”

 

“Good morning, paladins!”

A few hours later, in stark contrast to the lackluster atmosphere about the dining hall, Coran was decidedly chipper. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, he was always the first to enjoy an early morning start, whipping a hearty bowl of goop down in front of each of the bedraggled earthlings in his presence as he pranced the length of the long table. Lance had already fallen asleep again right there in his seat, having stumbled out of bed in little more than his pajama bottoms to attend, while Hunk was barely conscious himself, tipping the corner of his bowl forward with one finger as though hoping he could slide the food into his mouth without needing to lift his head. Beneath a tangled nest of unruly hair, Pidge was barely recognizable at his right side, her cheek propped up in one hand as she fought to keep her eyes open.

“Uuuugh!” was Lance's despairing response, but Coran was undeterred.

“Now, now! We've lots to do today, no time for the grumblies!” he exclaimed, waggling a spoon at the sullen pilot. “We're running low on some key fuel resources, we need a replacement part for the cryo-chambers, and not to mention, we're in dire need of some more ship-shiner for the castle interior. I haven't seen my reflection in the walls for weeks! Ah...”

He turned at the sound of the door sliding open nearby...Keith sauntered in and took a seat beside Lance, folding his arms across the tabletop and looking away. A few moments later, Shiro walked through as well, and Coran ran his fingers down the length of his mustache in approval.

“Well at least you two are already dressed!” he exclaimed. “Come on, eat up! Chop chop!”

“So what's the plan?” Shiro inquired, taking a seat on Keith's other side and pulling his bowl closer. “Is there anything local that we can harvest some fuel from, or do we need to make a jump?”

From the far end of the room, ruminating over the constellations beyond the high windows and finishing off the last of her own breakfast, Allura turned toward them.

“We shouldn't need to go too far,” she said.

“Right!” Coran agreed. “We've picked up a strong reading from just a few galaxies away. I reckon we'll be there in a couple of – what'd'ya call 'em – _earth hours_.”

Lance yawned widely.

“Ngh, that's great, Coran,” he lamented. “Really. So like, if we've got some time to kill – _why are we awake so freakin' early_?”

Coran drew himself up matter-of-factly.

“Well, so we have enough time to prepare, of course!” He set his hands on his hips. “We've got to saddle up some collection equipment, prep the hangar, load up the lions...all sorts of things! Besides, it's good for you, getting up with the rest of the world once in a blue moon!”

“Uuuugh!”

“Hey, come on,” Shiro reprimanded, smiling. “If we all work hard to get everything ready, I'm sure we'll have some time to spare afterwards before we reach the planet.”

Lance draped his lanky frame over the back of his chair with a wistful sigh. “Yeah...time that could've been spent _sleeping_...”

He peered around the table expectantly, but his sentiment drew little enthusiasm from the rest of the lethargic paladins, so he jabbed Keith with his elbow a few times to prompt him. Keith groaned lowly in discontent, closing one eye and slipping his hand over his arm to block Lance's advances.

“Yeah, whatever.”

There was an evident tick in Lance's eyebrow as he turned in his seat to glare at Keith, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. “Is that all you have to say?!”

Keith pointed his utensil at Lance's empty bowl. “If you're done, why don't you go start loading up your lion like Coran said?”

“Wh – you're not my – where do you get off – _why don't you_?!” Lance countered dramatically.

“Ngh...why don't you _both_ go?” Pidge lamented, more horizontal than upright at that point (her words punctuated only by Hunk's heavy snoring).

Shiro nodded. “That's a good idea. Keith, Lance...godspeed. We'll join you when we're done eating.”

“Uuuuuugh!” Lance launched himself to his feet, clearly invigorated after a full breakfast, and glared accusingly in Keith's direction as the other paladin dragged himself up as well. “Now look what you did!”

Taken aback, Keith looked around at him. “Hey – me? Why do you think this is my fault?!”

“It's always your fault, Keith! Always, every time! If I had a nickel for every time it was your fault–,”

“Go!” Shiro groaned.

 

The planet they had targeted did not yield quite as much bounty as Coran had hoped; it had once been a vibrant agriculture, rich in resources, but upon their arrival, it was clear that the Galra had long since come and gone, ransacking the surface for fuel and leaving little behind in their wake. Even so, it seemed that the planet had replenished itself since then, and by the time they returned to the castle, it was with a fair amount of various feldspars and crystalline minerals, not to mention a few samples of the local plant life (Hunk insisted they would make for good cooking).

“Nice work, gang,” Shiro called as they began to unload their haul back on board the ship. “Let's get this stuff unpacked for Coran, then we can take five. Keith!”

Keith paused, gripping his shoulder as he set down another heavy load on the surface of the bay. Shiro patted him on the back.

“Come on,” he said. “You can oversee something like this, right? Being a leader's not just about giving direction in battle.”

Keith glanced up cautiously at the taller man, but Shiro's face was kindly, and subsequently, his own face broke out into a smile as well.

“Yeah,” he agreed, with renewed resolve. “You're right, Shiro. Thanks.”

Shiro nodded. “'Atta boy. Come find me afterwards, all right? We're not done.”

Keith faltered slightly, but found himself nodding again regardless, squaring his shoulders again a moment later. “Yeah...”

He watched Shiro's retreating back for a few moments, unmindful of his surroundings until Lance inadvertently bumped into him while hauling a large sack of goods, nearly dropping the entire thing in the process.

“Wh – hey! If you're gonna stand around, at least do it off to the side where you're not gonna get in the way!” Lance protested heatedly.

Keith whirled around to glare daggers at him, but then paused, Shiro's words lingering in his head. _Being a leader's not just about giving direction in battle._

Taking a deep breath and conjuring patience he never knew he had, Keith fixed lance with a murderous gaze.

_You can do this._

“Yeah, uh...great job...Lance,” he forced out, his tone rigid. “Uhm, keep up the...good work. Here...why don't I help...too...”

Lance stared at Keith dimly for a moment, his expression non-plussed, then blinked rapidly a few times and shook his head. “Sarcasm?! Really, Keith?! Aren't you supposed to be Shiro's little protege or something?! Where do you get off giving me so much lip, huh?!”

Keith's eyes widened in mingled surprise and indignation, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “Hey – I was being serious!” he shot back defensively. “Why are you so thick-headed, you idiot?!”

“Oh yeah, gee, real nice!” Lance huffed. “Here, take it! If you wanna 'help' so much!”

He shoved his load heavily into Keith's arms, and the other pilot hastened to steady his footing as the impact jarred tender ribs, closing one eye in discomfort as he glared up at Lance again. Lance, however, had already turned his nose to the air, marching briskly past Keith without a second glance.

“Hey...come back here-!”

“Yeah, uh, great job, Keith!” Lance singsonged, waving over his shoulder without turning around as he strutted off in the direction of the exit. “Keep up the good work! Here, why don't I help too!”

“Augh...great.” Scowling, Keith unloaded the sack Lance had handed him onto the docking bay and then trudged back toward his lion for more...it was going to take twice as long now (or perhaps not, he reasoned, as it was entirely possible that the process would be faster now with Lance out of the way).

Even so...he found himself in no kind of rush to finish.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The way his duffel bag hit the floor by the doorway as he trudged into the castle barracks was a dull remark on Keith's mood. He didn't even bother to kick off his shoes before dropping face-first onto his bed, shirt clinging to his gangly shoulder blades as he buried his head into his pillow. Excusing himself early from dinner had been easy; there were precious few hours of much-needed rest between one day and the next, and listening to Hunk describe the _exact_ way in which crystal salt could bring out the flavor of some alien fruit-vegetable seemed a poor way to spend that time.

But smothering himself did little to combat a pounding headache and the annoying, niggling feeling in the back of his mind that he had forgotten something important. Idly sliding one hand beneath his pillow to close around the cool hilt of the Marmoran blade hidden there, he pondered the thought with lackluster effort, ignoring the incessant noise that tugged on the reigns of his consciousness.

“Keith.”

Keith's eyebrows drew together for a moment, and he wondered if he had skipped out on Shiro without meaning to. More often than not, he found himself jarred awake in the early hours of the morning, disoriented from a lack of sleep and inwardly berating himself for not having found the time to earn a few extra minutes of shut-eye the night prior, but for now, he felt he was exactly where he was supposed to be. Maybe it was his shot at catching a break, if only for a few hours. Both he and Shiro had been working extremely hard, after all, and if he had the opportunity to sleep in, he was going to take it–,

“Keith!”

Keith opened his eyes slowly, the room doubling and then tripling for a moment before swimming back into focus as he realized that he was not, in fact, asleep in his room after all. In a rude awakening, he found there was no pillow beneath his head, and the hard, polished surface on which he found himself lying was not his bed.

A hand extended down to him – Shiro's, he would recognize it anywhere – and Keith reached for it on instinct, long, loose fingers closing around larger, warmer ones and holding fast as he allowed himself to be pulled unsteadily to his feet.

“What...happened?”

Shiro placed a large hand against Keith's back to steady him as he wavered. “Take it easy. You just miscalculated for a second there.”

Rubbing the back of his throbbing head where he could feel a lump forming, Keith looked over to see a training simulation paused midway through, just as the muddy memories started to fall back into place.

“Right...” Scowling, he accepted the offer of a water pod from Shiro and drained it in a breath, crunching the container. “I feel like shit.”

“Hey – watch your mouth.” Shiro gave him a nudge, his face lined with concern. “Are you gonna be okay?”

“...Yeah.”

“Keith...” Shiro's tone was strained, anxious. “You've gotta get better at this.”

The words diverted Keith's gaze off to one side, narrow shoulders tense around his neck, but Shiro's fingers grazed the edge of his sullen jaw to prompt him to look up again.

"What if something happens to you out there, huh? What about the others?” Shiro shook his head a little. “I may not always be there to help you...I need to know that you're gonna be okay. All of you.”

“Shiro...” Keith's hesitant rhetoric barely made it past his lips, however, before the touch on the side of his face fell away. Words had never come easy.

“...Resume simulation.”

Keith's eyes widened, bringing his bayard up blindly as he spun around just in time to block the sentry's attack, knees shaking a little from the impact. His vision doubled again for a moment, but he shook his head rigorously and ducked beneath the hologram's arm, jumping up to kick it hard in the back and sending it reeling before hurtling his bayard after it.

He missed the landing on his feet and hit the ground hard on one side instead, momentarily dazed as the wind was knocked out of him. A few feet away, the sentry burst into data, and his bayard clattered noisily to the floor.

The simulator powered down again, the sudden silence in the arena punctuated by heavy panting. Keith set his forehead against his arm for a moment before pushing himself to his hands and knees, bracing as the sound of approaching footsteps caught his attention nearby.

“Get up.”

Blowing a rogue strand of hair out of his face, Keith lifted his eyes hastily to meet Shiro's, the man's great height heavily exaggerated from where he was kneeling.

“Shiro...”

“Keith, get up.”

Keith set a hand on his knee briefly, then shoved himself to his feet, lifting his head to meet Shiro's gaze again.

“...Good job.” A moment later, Shiro's terse expression softened in relief, and he smiled lightly as he reached out to set a hand on Keith's shoulder. “We're getting there. You're gonna be all right.”

Keith's face remained unchanged, weary but determined as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Don't worry. I won't let you down, Shiro.”

The way his ribs pulsated each time he took a breath made him think they were broken.

Shiro chuckled and slung an arm playfully around Keith's neck, drawing a slight flinch from the other paladin. “Yeah, I got that. Come on...let's call it a day.”

Keith rolled his shoulders and nodded, trailing out of the arena behind Shiro's stoic form. With the rest of his ex-Garrison peers likely turned in for the night, he made an effort to stay quiet as he stole back to his quarters, trailing his hand heavily along the polished length of the castle corridors to aid his plight. Upon shutting himself inside, he sat on the bed and took a moment to take a breath, assess the damage, and patch himself up as he changed for the night. His offending left knee was more swollen than it had been the last couple of days and starting to throb unpleasantly as he wrapped his hands around his thigh...fetching ice from the kitchen seemed like a monumental task, however, and he didn't feel up to the challenge just then.

Crouching tersely on the floor instead to haul a box of supplies out from under his bed and rummage through, he set aside a roll of gauze and dressings before tugging his shirt up over his head with a sharp intake of breath.

Once he was finished, he rose gingerly to his feet again to test his weight on his left leg, then stood in front of the mirror to make sure he hadn't missed anything. His ribs were still tender from where he had hit the ground at the end of his session in the arena, but he came to the conclusion that it was only because his entire side had faded to a blotchy purple color over the past couple of weeks, and didn't want to dwell on it. Every cut, bruise, and sprain felt like a failure on his part, and the sooner it all faded away, the sooner he could put those failures behind him.

“ _Good job, Keith. We're getting there.”_

Sinking back down onto the edge of his mattress, Keith slid the medikit back under the bed with one foot and set his elbows on his knees, his expression pensive.

_Shiro...what's on your mind?_

It bothered him, the insistent way in which Shiro talked as though he wasn't going to be around one day. The sentiment left a coldness in Keith's body, a vice that suffocated him increasingly with a sense of profound loss. He couldn't say for sure when each of them had become what they were to one another, but it was only now, with the ominous threat of Shiro's departure lining his brow in a troubled scowl, that he realized how much had changed since they had all left home together.

Habitually, he reached under his pillow without thinking to extract the Galran blade hidden there, touching his thumb lightly to the tip as he lay back. As usual, there were only a few hours left before he needed to wake up again, his head already spinning from sleep deprivation, and yet his mind refused to rest right away. Whatever was going on with Shiro, the black paladin wasn't talking...but Shiro was teaching him to be a strong leader – a protector, like he was – and Keith intended to be just that. It was a simple conclusion to come to, really. As long as he was around, Shiro wasn't going anywhere.

 

“Aaaand, Space Maaaall!”

In retrospect, it really wasn't very often that a real, honest-to-goodness day off presented itself. If Lance were a betting man, he would have surmised that Allura had decidedly more days off than the rest of them, but, well...she _was_ a princess, after all, and pointing it out would only end with the rest of them earning even _fewer_ days off than they had already. As it was, the opportunity in question was simply too good to pass up, and it was with Hunk's help that he was finally able to convince Coran to make the designated pitstop. How could they not, when the scanners indicated that the entire moon had, in fact, been transformed into what it claimed to be the largest entertainment center in the galaxy?

“This is incredible!” Pidge volunteered enthusiastically, practically melded with the monitor on which she had downloaded the advertised flyer. “VR centers...museums...six food courts! Hunk, there's gotta be nearly a hundred restaurants here, all together. And each district is dedicated to a different part of consumerism...clothes...gadgets...hobby shops...tourist outlets...guys, can you imagine all the data we could collect on alien advancements and technologies here?! It's like a living guide to cultural anthropology!”

Lance scratched the side of his face.

“Man, yeah, that's great and all, Pidge,” he uttered humorlessly. “But uh...how about the _huge stinkin' arcade_ right in the middle of it?! Eh? Ehhh?”

He nudged her rigid frame, earning himself a reproachful look from above the rim of her glasses, which she indignantly shoved up the bridge of her nose.

“I mean...that's not... _totally_ out of the question either, but–,”

“Oh, come on!” Lance insisted, glancing over as Keith skulked past them. “Pidge, I've totally seen you nerd out _hard_ over video games before, you are so psyched about the arcade! Right, Keith?! Hunk?”

“Pidge is totally psyched about the arcade,” Hunk echoed in agreement, swiping through some of the attractions on the screen.

“What're you guys fussing about?” Keith retorted, busying himself with the hydration dispenser on the far wall.

“Um, hello? _Space Mall_?” Lance reiterated, his tone incredulous. “Like, ten-times-better-than-the-last-Space-Mall-we-went-to, Space Mall?”

“You mean the one where we almost got arrested by that Galran mall security guard?”

“Why would you bring that up?!”

“Well...I mean...he's got a point, but think about it: this time, we're gonna have Galra Keith with us,” Hunk rationalized matter-of-factly, shrugging. “So if we run into any trouble, you could, uh, I dunno, just do us a solid? Just let 'em know, like, hey, these guys are with me? You know, bail us out?”

Keith faltered, looking around at them.

“I...I didn't just _change_ into 'Galra Keith'!” he protested indignantly, a pitched lilt to his usually melancholy tone.

“Yeah, of course. Right, I know that.”

“Great, so, we're all pretty much here, right?” Lance interjected impatiently. “Let's go already! Space Mall waits for no one!”

Keith sauntered past Lance and the colorful infograph that Pidge had up on the monitor, stifling a yawn as he did so. “Sounds great. Have fun, I guess.”

Lance looked around at him, mouth set skeptically to one side in a pout as narrowed his eyes at Keith's retreating back. “Wait, you're not going?”

“I'll pass.”

“ _Whaaat_?”

“Whoa, nope,” Hunk put his hands up and closing his eyes matter-of-factly. “If Galra Keith's not goin', I'm not goin'. I don't wanna get kicked out of another Space Mall.”

“Hunk!” Pidge protested. “You said you were gonna ride the rollercoaster with me! There's two, by the way.”

Unexpectedly, Keith felt a hand settle upon his shoulder, squeezing just enough to deter his path toward the entryway and causing him to flinch a little in discomfort before he could stop himself. Turning, he hastily knocked Lance away from him, and his lanky companion took a step backwards with a scowl.

“Yeesh...” Sighing, Lance set his hands on his hips and took a moment to quell his rising temper, though his eyebrow was still twitching a little as he surveyed Keith's sullen features. “Look, we're all going, so uh...that means you're going too, got it?”

“I don't feel like going anywhere!”

“I don't care what you feel like!”

“Enough...” Shiro's hands clamped down on both their shoulders to tug them apart. “We're all going. Everyone's been working hard lately...we deserve a break.”

“That's, exactly, that's my exact – exactly!” Lance threw his hand up to point enthusiastically in the direction of the hanger, unmindful beneath the current of Keith's roiling glare. “ _To the Space Mall_!”

 

How he ended up trudging through the overpopulated travelators of the northernmost skymall at the pinnacle of the moon's axis with Lance was something of a mystery to Keith. One by one upon arrival, their number seemed to dwindle, and by the time Pidge had dragged Shiro away to barter for computer parts, there was no one else left.

Arms folded, he leaned against the side of the moving walkway, his face blackened with a heavy scowl. Across from him, Lance was turned away, his elbow propped up on the hand railing and his chin propped up on his hand, sliding a disgruntled look in Keith's direction every so often.

Catching the glare for the third or fourth time in a row, Keith unfolded his arms, balling his hands into fists at his sides as he turned to Lance in frustration.

“What? What are you looking at?” he demanded, perplexed.

“Nothing!”

They turned sullenly away from one another again, then stepped off one travelator onto the next, their trek gradual across the vast expanse of strip malls contained within the overall complex. With a sigh, Keith chanced a look over in Lance's direction, then tensed a little as Lance looked back at him as well.

“What?!” Lance demanded.

“Nothing!” A sharp sigh escaped him. “Look...why don't I stay over here, and you just stay way over there?”

“Fine!” Lance returned vehemently.

“Fine.”

Overhead, the high ceilings echoed a melody to an upbeat jingle in mocking contrast to their sour moods and scowling faces. Every so often, the tune was drowned out by a pitch for a sale or attraction, strikingly nostalgic of the old entertainment venues back on earth. Keith had never cared for them, but for just a moment, he was homesick. Across from him, Lance's narrow shoulders slumped in a similar vain, and he veered off the end of the walkway with his hands in his pockets, looking despondent. Keith followed suit aimlessly, falling into step beside his companion until the other's attention was inevitably pulled away by the displays in the store windows with restored enthusiasm.

Keith left him to his own devices, fatigue tugging at the edges of his consciousness again and driving him away from the main walkways and rolling strips to a quieter sect of the domed building. The rest area had been preened and landscaped to resemble a small park, a smattering of luminous, mauve trees and a spread of grass that was cornflower blue. Looking around the semi-opulent sound barrier as he stepped through to the other side, he located a vacant bench on the far side beneath an overhanging tree branch, away from the smattering of occupants about the area. Troubled thoughts did little to rouse him from his stupor, and he wished belatedly that he'd been more insistent on staying behind when they left the ship. Ironically, he had been too tired to argue, resting his elbows on his knees as he sat down on the bench and gazing absently at the fake blue grass with half-lidded eyes.

Time passed by without much incident, but it was just as sleep was threatening to overwhelm his senses that a shadow cast over the area in which he sat, and he glanced over as a pair of scruffy kicks approached.

“Here.”

Without warning, a brightly-colored, neon slurpee appeared under Keith's nose, and he looked up in surprise to see Lance standing next to him, gaze averted as he sucked diligently on the contents of his own drink while holding Keith's out toward him.

Taken aback, Keith took the beverage and looked on as Lance threw himself down onto the bench beside him, lanky arms draped over the back of it.

“Uh...thanks.”

“Yeah.” Lance sighed wistfully. “This place kinda blows after a while when you can't afford any of the cool stuff, huh?”

Keith looked out over the broad, secluded rest area as the fountain in the very center began to oscillate, humoring Lance with a vague nod. “...Yeah.”

A couple of small creatures – Keith could only assume they were children – cackled as they ran beneath the arcing waters of the fountain spirals, splashing one another as they did so. In an endless pursuit, they chased each other around and around, neither ever catching the other before they darted out of reach again.

“...So what's up with you, and stuff?”

Drawn from his thoughts, Keith almost didn't hear the question, glancing briefly over at Lance before looking away again with a frown.

“Whaddya mean?” he uttered dryly.

Lance shrugged nonchalantly, letting his head drop back over the bench so he could contemplate the weeping purple tree branches up above them.

“I dunno, I mean...it's nothing, I guess,” he dismissed, raising one bony shoulder idly in a shrug. “You've just been kinda...weird. But hey, could just be your regular, good ol' run-in-the-mill Keith-isms, same as usual...”

Keith looked back out over the grassy clearing. “It's nothing.”

They lapsed into silence for a time, but there was an air of expectancy to it...after a while, Lance chanced a sly, sidelong glance over at Keith's profile, but the other paladin wasn't looking at him.

“...Is it...'cause of the Galra thing?” he ventured, hastily ushering past the question. “For real, big news, huh?”

Keith let the drink straw sit ideally between his teeth as he contemplated his options for a moment, glad he was hunched forward with his elbows on his knees so that he couldn't see Lance draped over the back of the bench beside him.

“Sure. Yeah. It's the Galra thing.”

Lance snapped his fingers triumphantly.

“Yup, I knew it,” he declared, tapping the side of his head as Keith sighed and sat back in resignation. “As usual, Lance hones in on the root of the problem like a gigawatt laser! They say there ain't much going on up here, but pew, he sure showed them! Pew pew!”

Keith cast him a long-suffering look, but after a moment, spoke with a slight frown.

“...Who says that?” he murmured. “About you.”

“Eh?” Lance glanced over amidst his monologue, then shrugged haphazardly. “Ah, you know. Folks back at the Garrison, sometimes. What can you do, right? I figure it's like...like some kinda drill sergeant technique, you know? Talk 'em down to build 'em up.”

Keith rested his elbows across the back of the bench.

“...The Garrison's not all it's cracked up to be,” he offered passively, his tone groggy. “Can't believe everything they say. They're...wrong about a lot of stuff.”

The sentiment cast a look of surprise after Lance's face for a moment, and he cracked a grin, rubbing his nose.

“Ehh...I'm over it,” he dismissed. “Hello? Top-of-the-class fighter pilot, at your service. Me, Hunk, and Pidge? We were the talk of the town after you washed out...go figure, right? Hunh...think we still would've been chosen to for Voltron if we weren't? We were kicking some serious butt in our practical exams...well, that's...except for crashing the simulator a bunch, I guess. But what does “top of the class” really mean, right? Sure, we got docked a bunch of grades...we missed class sometimes...and they said we weren't so great at working together, but that's only 'cause...look, there were circumstances, okay? It's complicated. Besides, you--,”

“Yeah, okay. I got it.”

Lance stretched over the back of the chair.

“Hoo boy, if they could see us now, though. That simulator's a joke, I could fly it with my eyes closed after handling Blue. It's a pity there aren't more girls at the Garrison, y'know? I mean, does Pidge even count? But – okay, hear me out – picture this: there's a real nice sunset out, great weather and all that. Me n' Blue, we're hanging out over by the air strip, wind's blowin', I'm lookin' pretty good too...open skies for the taking...come on! What girl could resist that, right? There'd be a flock of 'em lining up. Heh. Think Allura would be jealous? She may act all. _..princess-like..._ but I'm telling you, I think–,”

Lance faltered abruptly at the soft increase of weight against his shoulder, spreading a warmth through the thin material of his jacket and prompting him to peer cautiously to the side, his expression tentative. Around them, the silence began to settle gently, save for the ambient sounds within the dome.

“Uhh...Keith?” Lance uttered, an undercurrent of panic lacing his tone.

Keith didn't respond, however, breathing deeply as he slept. Slumped to one side, his bony knees knocked lightly against Lance's, arms still folded as stubbornly as when he was awake...Lance watched him with wide eyes for a few moments, waiting, but he didn't so much as stir.

The silence continued, the secluded alcove growing still beneath the glowing tree branches. As the residual shock began to wear off, Lance hesitantly sat back again at last, tearing his eyes away to look out over the rest area and lifting his drink carefully to his lips. Before he did so, he paused for a moment, and a slight smile graced his features as he took a sip.

 


	3. Chapter 3

The Black Lion's interior cockpit was dark, devoid of life and sound, still like the rest of the hangar. Shiro preferred it that way, in fact; it was easier to focus, easier to collect himself without any outward distractions. A time to ruminate, and put his mind at ease if he could help it. The reassurance that he was, in fact, still the lion's paladin gave him solace, but the reality of his situation still held fast at the back of his mind. The jagged shadows across his face, like claws of the surrounding darkness, gave weight to his tangled expression, and his lips drew back like that of the beast he piloted, fangs bared to an invisible opponent.

“ _You...”_

Tightening his grip around the motionless controls, Shiro braced himself...through his own eyes, Zarkon gazed upon him, and through Zarkon's visage, he gazed upon himself as well. The exchange was abrupt, unexpected, and fierce, like two insurmountable forces clashing against one another from across the galaxy without ever having come into contact. As though stirring from an ancient slumber, the lion beneath Shiro's fingertips stirred, and as it reared to life, he heard laughter seeping through his pores like a poison.

“ _Your connection grows weaker once more. It is only a matter of time until I take back what is mine.”_

Shiro jerked sharply, but it did little to sever the bond between them...like a waking nightmare, he could not rouse himself from it.

“Say what you want...I beat you once, and I can do it again. You can count on that.”

The laughter that echoed inside his head seemed so tangible, as though it were bouncing off the very walls of the desolate hangar...the Black Lion's console flickered to life again, radiating a familiar warmth, and for just a moment, Shiro's captivated gaze reflected the insignia of the Galran empire across the main HUD display before him. At his hands, every control was locked, and through Zarkon's eyes, he saw himself frozen at the cockpit, no less a pawn than the lion itself.

And then, all at once, everything powered down. The laughter in Shiro's head faded away, the console shut itself off, and once again, a darkness fell upon the ship's hangar, silent but for the sounds of his heavy breathing. The electricity in the air grew dim, flat, and the very matter around him no longer seemed to quake in an unseen presence. Everything was still.

Without warning, he was alone again.

“...Damn it!”

Shiro slammed his fist down against the control panel, closing his eyes bitterly where he sat. Every night, it was the same. In his resting hours, he would see the Black Lion come to life, independent of him, watch it beckoned from the hangar and drawn from the castle...going back, back to its original master, back to the Galran Empire. And so every night, he would return to the hangar, fearful that the lion would already be gone by the time he arrived...then, from within it, his mind would be assaulted, he would clash fiercely with Zarkon once again, and an endless battle over a priceless charge would ensue.

He wrenched himself to his feet, slipping from the cockpit and storming from the hangar with his fists tight at his sides.

_This can't happen...I won't let this happen._ The thoughts came rapidly, strained with determination, but in spite of his constant rhetoric, doubt clouded his judgment. The mental battles grew taxing, and each time he staved the Galran emperor away, he only seemed to come back stronger than ever.

_I won once before...I'll do it again. I have to. If he wins...then...the others, they'll..._

“...iro...Shiro!'

Visage obscured by the shadows, Shiro glanced briefly over one shoulder to find Keith hot on his heels as he strode through the dimmed halls of the castle. The other's presence drew a crinkle to his eye, but his pace remained steady, fists tightening at his sides.

“Shiro, wait!”

“...What is it?” Shiro demanded tersely, his tone sharper than he meant for it to be.

Keith fell into step beside him, hastening to keep up with the fervored pace as he gazed up at the older man, brow furrowed.

“I've been looking everywhere for you,” he said. “...Hey...what's wrong?”

A sigh slipped past before Shiro could stop it, a lilt of underlying regret in his otherwise terse demeanor.

“Nothing, Keith. If you're done training, why don't you head to bed? The others are probably already asleep.”

Keith hesitated, the end of his shoe gliding across the polished floor for just a moment behind him...but then, he hurried ahead of Shiro so he could stand in front of him instead, blocking his path.

“I need to talk to you. It's important,” he insisted. “Look, Shiro, I'm worried about you. You're – hey...stop!”

Grimly, Shiro reached up to steer him out the way by his shoulder, his words jagged as they tumbled from his mouth. “I'm fine. I'm sorry, Keith...I don't have time to talk right now. We'll catch up later, all right?”

He moved away again, and for a moment, Keith simply watched him, but then narrowed his eyes determinedly and moved to catch up again.

“What? No – it's not,” he retorted, reaching to grab Shiro's wrist, fingers loose and light against the bottom of his palm. “Shiro, it's okay. Just hold on for a –,”

“Damn it, Keith, just _go_!”

WHAM.

Dazed, Keith's vision blurred...all of a sudden, he thought he was back in his lion again. The impact of the blast had sent him careening through the atmosphere, his ears ringing even as he shook his head clear and struggled to re-stabilize the thrusters; a training exercise that Shiro had put him up to just days earlier, interrupted by a hostile beast that he had been less than equipped to fight when they were only there to navigate the asteroid cluster. The damage he and Red had sustained wasn't permanent, but the blow came so harshly and unexpectedly that he had left himself wide open. If Shiro and the Black Lion hadn't been there to protect him, he...

In the dimness of the corridor, Shiro's hand shone a pale ultraviolet, reflecting the coldness in his blazing eyes like ember coals in the dead of winter. And like a firefly to the light, Keith's gaze was drawn to it, a symbol of both something terrible and, to him, something that had been safe, even reassuring. How many times had that same glow appeared from the corner of his eye like a beacon of solidarity, assured him that there was someone fighting alongside him...that he wasn't alone? It signified close calls, near misses, a message of hope that meant that no matter how dire the circumstances, they were going to get out alive. And while it was a troubling reminder for Shiro of a time he could no longer recall, for Keith, that purple glow was reconciliation. Proof that not everything Galra was bad...that someone could have the Galra be a part of them, and still be good.

Like him.

With the sound of Shiro's footsteps fading down the corridor, Keith brought a hand up to his jaw, closing one eye for a moment as he tested it and then wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth where he had been backhanded. Behind him, the wall was dented inward from the impact, flickering on and off before the artificial light behind the panel short-circuited completely...Keith slid down the length of it until he reached the floor, drawing one leg up and closing his eyes for a moment. His bruised body ached more than he thought it would from the impact, and even as he slumped back, there was a vice grip on his chest, as though crushed beneath the force of a bionic limb.

_Shiro..._

Silence settled around him like a heavy blanket, suffocating. The bowels of the ship churned every so often, groaning and creaking as the atmospheric pressure within shifted...but usually, Keith couldn't really hear them. Despite there being so few occupants of the massive castle, there always seemed to be something going on. Lance and Coran were by far the noisiest, their antics comical and oftentimes a source of great frustration for Keith. Hunk wasn't much better, though his ruckus was usually more contained, usually the result of some sort of kitchen mishap or mechanical failure. Pidge and Shiro were much quieter, objectively, but it didn't take much to set Pidge off talking passionately about some technological endeavor, and even Shiro couldn't help but join in the conversation more often than not when the others got together and started talking. Allura...well, she wasn't talking to Keith, not since he had drawn up the courage to confess his origins to her, but frequently, he could still hear her and Coran bickering nearby, wherever he was.

Silence like this, however...it reminded him more of his father's cabin in the desert than life onboard the ship with the other paladins. Empty. Desolate. A deafening quiet that he would swear by, when asked, and yet, in the moments alone...

But then, distantly, the sound of footsteps caught his attention again, rousing him from his thoughts and setting him on high alert. Tension crept into the wiry sinew and tendons of loosely-connected joints in his body, bracing himself as the noise grew louder, closer, approaching the bend in the corridor until–,

“Huh? Keith?”

Clad in baggy blue pajamas that were perhaps a couple of inches too short around his bony ankles and clutching a glass of water in one hand, it was Lance, not Shiro, whom Keith found blinking down at him, and he let out a breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding.

Lance set his hand on his hip, his expression nonplussed.

“What're you doing?”

“Unh...” Begrudgingly, Keith surveyed him from under heavy lids, his expression grim...Lance was always in the last place that he wanted him to be, but it was too late now.

Reaching one bare foot around to scratch the back of his leg, Lance seemed undeterred by the noise, relenting to squat at Keith's side while he was growled at. Grimly, Keith curled one arm tight around his knee, looking away from the other paladin in the hopes that he might lose interest in him. His mind was still reeling. He didn't want to answer the question, barely knew how. Part of him, a very strong part, wanted to pretend there was no answer.

“...Have you seen Shiro?” he uttered at last.

“Mm...Shiro? Nope, not me...” Lance's expression was dubious as he looked him up and down. “You, uhh...waiting for him...here? Or something? What happened to the wall?”

Keith ducked his head, expression pensive.

“Nothing,” he murmured, disregarding the questions for the time being in favor of sifting through his own troubled thoughts. “I just–,”

“Whoa...hey, man, you're bleeding.” Without thinking, Lance reached up to entangle his hand with Keith's untamed hair, drawing it from the base of his neck and frowning at the touch of crimson that lined his collar.

Keith reached up blindly behind his throbbing head as well, and for just a moment, nimble fingers grazed the valleys and peaks of Lance's knuckles before disappearing between unruly strands, seeking a culprit for his ire. Upon drawing his hand back again, however, he curled it grimly into a fist when he caught a glimpse of slick fingertips...yet before he could pull it away, Lance had snatched him by the wrist, thumb running lightly against his pulse.

“I'm serious!” he protested, arching one eyebrow. “What happened to you? Geez, this can't be good...I'm gonna get Coran, and–,”

Snapping to attention, Keith grabbed Lance's wrist in return, fingers digging urgently into the other's arm.

“No!” he said sharply, his expression terse. “No...look, I–,”

He had to talk to Shiro. He had to find out what was going on. He just had to get Shiro to talk to him, and then everything would be...

“Keith?”

Leaning back against the wall again, Keith glanced away, his hand clamped to the back of his head again.

“I'm...I just...haven't been feeling well lately,” he muttered at last. “I got dizzy just now and lost my balance, smacked my head against the wall. Guess I hit it harder than I thought.”

_There's no way he's gonna buy that._

Lance set his chin in his hand from where he was crouched, examining Keith's profile and uncharacteristically deep in thought. His pondering was nerve-wrecking...Keith glared at him, expression strained, but in the end, he merely shrugged.

“Makes sense,” he agreed, then rose to his feet and extended a hand down to Keith. “Go figure. Everyone thinks Lance the klutz, Lance is the one who breaks everything, it must be Lance's fault...well, way to go, _Keith_. Come on.”

Keith regarded the outstretched hand for a long moment, hesitant, but then reached out and took hold. In a sweeping overcompensation and a sudden spell of vertigo, the momentum of being yanked to his feet sent him tumbling into the other paladin, gripping his head as he did so and becoming suddenly aware of Lance holding him steady.

“Easy...” Lance flashed a nervous smile. “Uh...let's just...hey, maybe some ice wouldn't hurt, huh? Like your brain wasn't already scrambled enough without pulling a stunt like that...”

Keith had no retort, begrudgingly allowing himself to be guided in the direction of the kitchen, where he dragged himself up onto one of the stools and set his chin groggily in one hand.

“Here.”

Summoning an ice pack from the dispenser, Lance tossed it in Keith's direction before busying himself with the machine again. Keith lifted his free hand absently to catch it, then brought it around to the back of his head, his lip curling as it stung on contact.

Lance pulled up a seat on the other side of the island and slid a glass of water toward Keith as well before glancing stubbornly away and taking a sip of his own. Keith watched him quietly for a moment.

“...Thanks.”

Lance sat back, folding his arms and arching a thin eyebrow in Keith's direction. “So...like...seriously, man, what's eating you? Hate to break it to you, but you've been acting _really_ weird lately. Hey...you didn't eat some kinda...alien fruit or anything, did you? Coran said we shouldn't eat stuff unless he says it's okay, it might affect us weird 'cause we're not from Altea, and–,”

“No, I didn't eat any fruit!” Keith sighed and gripped the side of his head to try and reduce some of the throbbing. “It's just...I'm...I dunno, it's...it's space sickness.”

'Space sickness' was something that they had each heard Coran talk about on at least one occasion, a disease that allegedly affected those who spent too much time flying around in space with intermittent natural sunlight and too much recycled air. Coran said it often resulted in low energy, general aches and pains, and a feeling of poor health overall...Princess Allura, on the other hand, insisted that such a malady was imaginary, a story told by hack physicians so that people like Coran would buy into it. Regardless, space sickness was the go-to excuse they all used whenever they wanted to get out of something, and Lance narrowed his eyes at the mention of it.

“Uh huh...” Without warning, he launched his long frame halfway across the table to press the heel of his hand to Keith's forehead, fingers raking through growing bangs as he did so. Taken aback, Keith was too surprised to react to the sudden assault, his eyes flashing as he glared up at Lance from beneath his arm.

Lance's expression of triumph faded slowly into something more akin to a pout, however, as he checked Keith's temperature, and after a moment, he let out a short sigh and slid back down into his seat. “Well...okay, I guess you are a little warm, but...”

Keith looked down at the water swirling around in his glass, tilting it back and forth idly as he contemplated voicing his concerns. Lance was, without a doubt, the last person he wanted to confide in...he had the biggest mouth, he was a pain, and he probably wouldn't understand what Keith was talking about anyway, but...somehow, knowing that about Lance made it easier to talk to him than anyone else. Despite all the things about him that drove Keith crazy...he always listened. When it counted, anyway.

“...I'm...worried about Shiro,” he uttered tersely at last, gripping his cup with both hands and avoiding Lance's gaze.

Not expecting those to be the next words that came out of Keith's mouth, Lance glanced over, resting his elbows on the countertop. In that moment, Keith reminded him of one of the latchkey kids they  often passed by on junkyard planets, what with the way he was sitting...shoulders curled in around his neck as though to make himself as small and unnoticed as possible, posture rigid, expression terse. For all the times that Lance had wanted to clock him in the face, he found himself suddenly overcome with the urge to give him a hug.

“...Shiro? How come?”

“I just...” A strained silence filled the air, but in the end, Keith simply looked away. “He just hasn't been himself lately.”

Lance set his chin in his hand.

“Really?” Contemplating this, he thought back for a few moments, but then shook his head. “I haven't noticed anything...”

Keith sighed. He wasn't sure if he should point out that it was probably because Lance was one of the most unobservant people he'd ever met, or lecture him for his idiotic, happy-go-lucky attitude about everything, or demand to know how he could possibly not notice something like that when he didn't seem to be able to _stop_ noticing every single little thing that was going on with Keith.

“Forget it,” he murmured.

Lance surveyed him a while longer, unmindful of his sour mood for the time being, and then shook his head.

“Look...even if you're right, this is Shiro we're talking about. I mean, he can handle himself, you know? Besides...” He threw his chest out proudly. “Shiro knows he can come talk to us _any_ time!”

Keith closed his eyes and set the ice pack against the back of his head again. “Right...”

Silence fell between them then, until finally, Keith got to his feet without warning. “I'm gonna go find him.”

Lance looked up in surprise. “Right now? Uh...he's probably asleep?”

Keith shook his head. “No...I should've gone sooner. I just...”

He touched the back of his head absently, then turned away.

“Sorry.” He hesitated briefly on his way out. “And uh...thanks.”

Lance blinked rapidly a few times, then clambered his feet to chase after him, hastening to catch up. “For what? Hey...Keith! For what?! Whoa...”

They both stumbled slightly as the floor beneath their feet shuddered, a terrible groan rising from deep within the castle.

“What...what? What?! What was that?!” Lance immediately put his fists up, looking all around them as though he might find the culprit. “Aaah!”

There was another great shudder, and the arcing crescent of an explosion so close that it left a ringing in their ears...Keith turned again just as Lance was thrown into him, clumsily attempting to catch him and stop them both from tumbling to the ground.

“What's going on?!”

“ _Paladins!”_ At once, Princess Allura's voice filled the air, her high, regal tone fraught with tension. _“Zarkon's fleet is here...somehow, they have found us again. You must get to the lions...please, hurry!”_

 


	4. Chapter 4

Like chips of shimmering amethyst against the gaping maw of space, Zarkon's empire descended. Across the void stretched a web of laser fire, ensnaring the castle and rendering it helpless amidst the the relentless assault of its defenses. Farther out, the paladins encircling the fleet of Galran ships were at a disadvantage; the attack had come as a surprise, and they were gravely outnumbered, scattered across the battlefield not unlike the debris in the surrounding asteroid field.

“ _Paladins,”_ Allura's voice was urgent in their ears. _“We have to put enough distance between the castle and Zarkon's fleet to make a hyperjump. Do what you can to buy us some time!”_

“Okay, guys,” Shiro's tone was somber, ever-stern as he ran a hand over weary features. “Listen carefully. We need to hold these ships off, but we also need to hightail it out of here. Shoot from afar and don't get in too close!”

“No arguments here!” Hunk muttered.

“All right, go!”

Splitting across the galaxy in streaks of color, the five lions descended in unison at the command and struck the enemy down on all sides. Steel gnashed with steel, furling metal under the intense heat of the blasts, and explosions lined the cosmos like stars, overloading engines and flooding fuel cells as they clashed in battle.

“I've got a clear shot on the right, I'm gonna take it!” Pidge called amidst the chaos, veering away from a superheated blast.

“I'm going left to peel the others off!” Lance chimed in, moving in the opposite direction.

“I'm coming with you,” Keith added, pursuing him. “You go high, I'll go low.”

Shiro nodded. “All right, guys, that's good. Split 'em up as much as you can and take out the small fry. Then circle back around so we can form Voltron and push the main ship back. Hunk, take the middle with me.”

“Easy-peasy,” Lance smirked. “Whoa!”

Just beneath him, Pidge hurtled through space, careening unexpectedly off a deflector shield and toward the nearby asteroid belt...Keith lunged to block her trajectory, the impact sending them both into a spiral before they managed to right themselves again. Not a moment later, Lance hastened to tear his attention away from the spectacle and blast a hole in the side of an enemy ship as it took aim at the back of Shiro's lion.

“Oh yeah!” he cheered, throwing his first up precariously in the confines of the small cockpit. “Okay, moving on! You ready, Keith?! ...Keith?”

“...What? Yeah, I'm ready.” Rubbing hastily at the bags under his eyes, Keith readjusted his grip on the controls and powered his lion forward, splitting off from Lance so that he could attack from underneath while the blue lion drew their fire.

From the side, a sudden explosion lit up the battlefield as Hunk flanked one of the sentries and threw a direct hit to its engine...with an indignant protest, Pidge hastily maneuvered her lion out of the way of the rogue debris that launched silently through the vacuum of space. Seeing an opportunity, she yanked both thrusters back to get into position and swung the Green Lion's tail into a large chunk of metal to send it hurtling back in the direction of one of the Galra ships instead.

Intercepting a blast so that Lance could continue on his upward trajectory, Keith drew the Red Lion's blade to tear through the steel hull of a fighter pod, then hastily backed off again to shoot from afar. Nearby, Shiro drew the fire of several attackers flanking the main flagship, though he left a wide berth around the latter. He managed to draw two of the smaller, more mobile ones far enough out to where he could strike, and once again, the immediate area was set alight in the afterglow of burning remains.

“...Hey,” Keith uttered, closing one eye to combat the pounding in his head. “They didn't bring that many with them this time...don't you think? Just...if we take out the little guys...form Voltron...maybe we could–,”

Once again, Zarkon was just out of reach, and if they could only get in close enough to strike...taking out the ship itself was the key, not even Zarkon could survive destruction like that. Even if he did, he would be an easy target in the aftermath...unprotected, suspended in space, he would have no way to defend himself...

“I hear you, Keith,” Shiro replied, shaking his head. “I know how you feel. But now's not the time...we don't know how many more are coming, or how they found us, or what their plans are. We need to play it safe for now.”

“But...” Keith clenched his teeth.

Before he could argue further, however, they split off again as another round of laser fire separated them, knocking the Red and Blue lions still further away from the rest. Part of the Galran fleet broke away to pursue them, the remainder descending upon the other paladins as Coran and the princess made their escape.

Drifting out beyond the asteroid belt, the Red Lion's dormant interior came alive suddenly at Keith's fingertips, and he jerked upright as he realized he had slumped forward in his seat.

“Regroup!” Shiro's voice was urgent through the console. “Everyone, fight your way back!”

Shaking his head, Keith took a quick survey of the Galra's positions before reaching to turn up the lion's jet blasters, but the controls locked up at his fingertips as he did so. Glancing down distractedly, he shook them a little to loosen the jam, but the console dimmed and shut itself down before his eyes, drawing a urgent frown across his features.

“Let's go,” he murmured, turning his attention back to the exterior display to see where he was going.

Nothing happened...far in the distance, he saw Hunk and Pidge move to defend the castle again, his vantage point hazy, yet still he remained where he was, stranded amidst the asteroids. His lion had completely shut down.  
Taken aback, Keith tore his attention away from the battle, looking around the cockpit as though he might find the answer among the frozen controls.

“Come on...what's wrong, Red?” he demanded, reaching out to generate a damage report on the console.

There was no response, and the lion refused to budge, lighting up again only briefly as though the mechanical beast were trying to speak to him. The heavy lines beneath Keith's eyes deepened as he narrowed them, his head throbbing persistently as he tried not to grow impatient.

“Hey...this is no time to mess around,” he urged. “Whoa!”

The lion lurched suddenly, plunging like a crimson comet through the cosmos and just in time to avoid a laser blast from one of Zarkon's ships without any say from Keith. A moment later, it righted itself again, dormant in space.

“What's the matter with you?!” Keith demanded. “Hey...come on!”

He shook his head again, and the console lit up once more, an eerie tone swelling within his ears. Keith gritted his teeth as images swam through his mind's eye, then pushed on the thrusters again in frustration, suddenly self-conscious.

“Yeah, I know, all right?” he ranted at the lion. “My head's messed up...but we can't just stay here and do nothing, we've gotta help.”

“Keith?” Another overlay opened onto the HUD and Shiro appeared, his face lined deeply with concern. “What's going on over there? You're just...floating.”

“Shiro...” Despite himself, there was a hint of relief in Keith's tone at the sight of a friendly face. The familiarity of Shiro's concern was comforting, yet nostalgic, as though he hadn't heard it in a while. “It's okay. I think...I think my lion's worried about me or something.”

“What do you mean?”

Keith hesitated, reluctant, then looked away.

“I think I hit my head pretty hard before,” he said finally. “It's...slowing me down. I don't know...the lion doesn't want me flying it, I guess. I'm...I'm just...it's not listening to me.”

“What?” Across the screen, Shiro's frown deepened, and his tone grew more urgent. “Are you okay? What do you mean 'before'?”

Keith pressed into the back of his seat as though its support would somehow propel him to speak, lifting his eyes to the ceiling of the cockpit.

“In the hall, back on the ship,” he relented.

“...The hall?” He could feel that anxious gaze burning into him even when he wasn't looking, but his thoughts were elsewhere.

The Galra were so close...Zarkon was so close. If they could just regroup...he just had to get the volatile beast he was piloting to listen, and then...

“Keith, what are you talking about?” Shiro's voice cut sharply through his lamentations. “How badly are you hurt?”

Tearing his eyes away from the Black Lion battling far, far in the distance, Keith looked over at Shiro's face on the monitor, searching his features. He spent so much of his time studying Shiro, and yet suddenly, he couldn't read him at all. “I...”

“Uhhh! Guys? _Guys?_ ”

From his position, Keith caught sight of the Blue Lion in suspended animation far above him, encapsulated within a hexagonal prism and tethered to the Galra's main vessel.

“Lance!”

Still, his own controls refused to budge, and Keith gritted his teeth as he saw Hunk power toward the captured lion from afar, only to dodge hastily out of the way again as another blast tore through the bleakness of space from the main cannons on Zarkon's ship. Off in the distance, Pidge and Shiro both changed trajectories to hasten to Lance's side, but the battle had drawn them a good distance away already, like an invisible ocean tide beckoning them out to sea.

“...Come on, _move_...” Keith lamented, a lilt of desperation coloring his tone as he shook the lion's gears again. “Hurry up, let's go!”

A sense of helplessness crept up on him from behind, heavy and suffocating, and he swallowed the panic that suddenly seemed to be crawling up into his throat...after pulling on the controls a few more times, he let out a slow, shaky breath and, reluctantly, closed his eyes.

_Patience yields focus._

“...Listen,” he murmured. “I know you don't like this. But we've gotta help, we're sitting ducks here. The others need us.”

He hesitated.

“Uh...please?”

There was a dwindling pause...Keith tightened his grip a little, beads of sweat clinging precariously to his knitted forehead. Every moment felt like an age.

“Keith, what are you doing?!” Pidge's voice rang shrill through the cockpit. “Lance is in trouble!”

“Keith, get in there! Snap out of it, man!” Hunk called. “I'm too far away!”

_Come on..._

All at once, the console lit up around him, and Keith hastily yanked the thrusters forward to turn around and take his shot...his lion refused to move, but it was enough for him to aim precariously past Lance to the Galran ship beyond, charging the laser.

_Nice and steady...just focus..._

“Keith! Keith?! Keith, get me outta this Galra hamster ball, man!”

“...Okay, shut up for a second!” Keith protested.

He eased his targeting reticle over, then back, no easier to lock it onto the ship than to calculate the velocity of the blast in his head. Eyes narrowed, he found himself chasing the ship's outline in vain as it doubled, tripled, then came into focus again, elusive in his distorted visage...his thumb hovered precariously over the trigger as he struggled to line up the shot, but he could feel his eyes beginning to close against his will. He couldn't aim, couldn't think...around him, the Red Lion struck an eerie tone that resonated throughout the cockpit's interior, and at last, on blind instinct, he fired.

In the same moment, he felt an insurmountable force slam into his side, his vision of Lance and the offending Galran ship consumed entirely by the light of the laser cannon that had struck him. The beam that burst from the Red Lion's mouth careened across the battlefield, shattering the forcefield around Lance and drawing a searing line across the Blue Lion's flank.

“Aagh!”

“Lance!”

Disorientated, Keith felt himself hurtling through space, his vision tunneling as the lion spun out of control...wrestling with the jets beneath the beast's mechanical paws, he fought to right himself, but an explosion hit him with such force that he thought he had been blasted by a laser again. One of the Galran ships encircling Lance had combusted, and at once, the Blue Lion disappeared entirely within the plumes of burning debris, the orange blaze consuming the deep violet of Keith's irises as he gazed into its depths.

“Lance?!” The name fell flat on his lips. “H-hey...are you...?”

“ _Paladins!”_ Coran's voice was a jarring distraction. _“The wormhole is open...chop, chop, back to the ship now! Get out of there!”_

Keith disregarded him entirely, the Red Lion suspended across from Blue as he opened communications again.

“Lance...hey...Lance!”

The residual heat from the blasts persisted, proving too much for the nearby asteroid field; suddenly both the Blue and Red lions were engulfed once again in an explosive cacophony...with warnings blaring on all displays, Keith braced himself against the centrifugal force that threatened to drag him the rest of the way down, down into the depths of unconsciousness, darkness creeping in front the corners of his eyes as his lion crashed through the cluster of asteroids and ricocheted through space.

_Stay with it..._

A resounding clang jolted him to his senses again, and dimly, he lifted his head, the displays flickering to life around him again to reveal his surroundings. Drifting idly away from the outskirts of the minefield, he found himself entangled not in a collection of space debris, but with the Blue Lion itself, wispy tendrils of smoke choking his peripherals from the damaged panels along the fellow beast's exterior.

In the sudden quiet, air burst from Keith's lungs, brought his head to his hand as he slumped forward in his seat against the restraints.

“...Lance...?” he called at last, his tone forcibly calm. “Hey...Lance...can you hear me?”

The silence was deafening, but before he could say anything else, his console crackled to life again.  
“Uuuugh...ow...”

Relieved, Keith leaned back again and closed his eyes for a moment. The Blue Lion was severely damaged, its power dimmed and its systems offline, but at least Lance was conscious...unmindful of both the wormhole and the Galran ships, Keith sought to untangle the two of them and head for safety. In the distance, he glimpsed the yellow and green lions retreating at the Alteans' command, struggling to hold back the Galran ships in their pursuit.

“Ugh...uhhh...”

“Stay with me, Lance,” Keith murmured tersely, drawing his hand back as his console fizzed and sparked on contact, the displays flickering unsteadily.

“Uh, Keith? That you? H-hey buddy...I think my lion's busted...uhh...I think... _I'm_ busted...”

Keith tightened his grip on the controls.

“...Okay...well...let's just get you un-busted,” he uttered, his stomach twisting despite his deadpan tone. “We're gonna get out of here, just...give me a minute.”

The wormhole wouldn't stay forever...he could no longer see Hunk and Pidge, and had to assume they had made it back inside, but there was too much destruction obscuring the battlefield to know for sure. Beyond the castle, the vortex yawned open, beckoning. In the endless void, it was almost impossible to judge its distance, and despite its massive size, it seemed so far beyond their reach...

“Keith! Lance!”

 _WHAM_.

“UGH!”

Keith felt something impact with the side of his lion once again, the force jarring every bone in his body...the inside of the cockpit shone a brilliant white as the massive blast from Zarkon's ship missed them by a fraction, so close that Keith could feel the heat of it even through the lion's armor.

“Shiro...”

Weapon fire chased them through space as the Black Lion continued powering forward, pushing both of them away to safety...the comms in their helmets crackled as Shiro's voice was patched through, thick with concern.

“Are you guys all right?!”

In their wake, the castle fired off a massive shot toward the Galran fleet, clearing the three of them a path all the way to the landing dock. Keith pushed half-heartedly on his lion's unresponsive controls, but in the end, he simply slumped back in his seat, closing his eyes as they passed through protective shell of the ship's defense systems before the wormhole swallowed them completely.

 

The sound of pressure releasing into the atmosphere as the Red Lion's hatch slid open roused Keith from his daze, and for a moment, he wasn't sure which parts had been a dream. A tremor passed through guarded violet irises as his eyes drifted open, and he tensed as a bionic hand extended down toward him. Lifting his gaze, he found Shiro looking into the cockpit at him from above, worn but unscathed. His eyes warmed as he saw Keith stir.

“Come on.” he offered a tired smile. “Let's get you patched up.”

Keith hesitated, then reached up to take the hand offered to him, ascending through the top of the lion and falling forward unsteadily as his feet hit solid ground.

“Whoa, take it easy,” Shiro's arm came across his chest to right him, holding fast to keep him from faltering.

Nearby in unison, Coran jumped down from the back of the Blue Lion, surprisingly agile for a man his age (though, none of them had ever gotten the Altean to admit how old he really was). As he hurried away, Keith caught a glimpse of long, gangly limbs draped over the his arms, and he faltered.

“Lance?! Lance!”

Shiro hastily caught hold of Keith again to keep him from chasing after the two of them, wrapping a pair of strong arms around him from behind to wait patiently for the struggling to cease.

“Slow down, you're gonna bang yourself up even more,” he soothed, his grip unrelenting. “Don't worry, you're headed to the same place they are.”

“But–!”

Futile in his efforts, Keith slumped back against Shiro's chest, looking after Coran as he disappeared from sight across the hangar. At his sides, his hands were clenched.

Cautiously, Shiro loosened his grip, though he didn't let go entirely, holding Keith steady to keep him from escaping. Keith hung his head, anxious in defeat.

“It was my fault...” His tone was stoic, bitter.

“Keith...”

“Yes...it was.”

Allura's voice was uncharacteristically cold, her bright eyes like ice as she approached them from the side entrance to the hangar. A princess by blood, in that moment she was more akin to the legends of her peoples' warrior race as she stood before them, tall and proud and powerful...beneath her unflinching visage in the light of his mistakes, Keith could not hold her gaze.

“I saw what happened.”

Slumped over Shiro's arm, there was no response from the red paladin, his narrow shoulders tense around his ears. Allura's mouth twisted.

“Once again, it becomes clear...we _cannot_ trust the Galra. Lance is proof of that now.”

“All right, that's enough.” Exasperated, Shiro looked down as Keith's weight increased against him, his gaze softening. “The only one to blame here is Zarkon...and we're not gonna let that drive a wedge between us. Right?"

“I saw him open fire on the Blue Lion!”

Shiro sighed and pulled Keith's arm around his shoulders. “Look...we need to get him to a cryopod. Let's just put this conversation on hold for now, all right?”

Allura looked away bitterly, but nonetheless, she stood aside, allowing them passage. Shiro hoisted Keith up a little, his expression set in a grim line, and they retreated slowly into the depths of the castle under the princess's relentless gaze to rest.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Sitting across from Coran, features sharp and exaggerated beneath the eerie glow of ancient technology, Shiro's expression was grim. Between them, a rotating model of the Black Lion generated a steady string of Altean code from its projector, and though the read-outs were lost on Shiro, he didn't have to wait for Coran's translation to know what they meant.

“So it's true,” he surmised. “Zarkon's connection to the Black Lion is getting stronger again. He's found a way to reconnect with it.”

It was more of a statement than a question. There could be no other explanation, even if he told himself there was at least once a day. If any further proof was needed, the answers were now being generated before his very eyes, only in a language he didn't understand.

With a sweeping stroke of his mustache, Coran poured over the diagnostics being run through the system in contemplation, considerably more patient than Shiro and in no rush to share his findings.

“Well it would certainly seem that way,” he concluded finally. “Though it's anybody's guess as to how. Look like we're not quite out of the woods there.”

Shiro clasped his hands pensively in front of his face, his eyes narrowing.

“He can connect from much further away now,” he murmured. “The mental battles we fight for control of the lion...it's like they can take place any time.”

“Hmm.” Coran leaned forwards more deeply to pour over the hologram data, unmindful of Shiro's words for the time being. “Hmm. Hmm. Hmm!”

“Uh...Coran?”

“What? Oh! Yes.” Straightening again, Coran tore his eyes away to look back down at Shiro, stroking his mustache again. “Well, it's like this, right? The only way Zarkon's connection with the Black Lion can get stronger is if _your_ connection gets weaker!”

Shiro looked over at him, sitting back from the console in surprise. “What? You mean...”

“Yes.” Coran nodded matter-of-factly, though his tone had sobered. “It's not a one-and-done deal, I'm afraid. A paladin's bond with his or her lion is just like any other sort of relationship; it can have its ups and downs, and it's continually growing. It's important to remember that.”

Shiro stood up as well, his eyes reflecting the pale blue light of the Black Lion's image.

“But I...”

Coran surveyed him calmly.

“Is there anything that's been troubling you lately?” he inquired. “Anything you've been wrapped up in? Mental cloudiness is surefire way to get the bond muddled up with your lion, you know.”

“Other than the threat of the entire Galran empire dropping by at a moment's notice and the fate of the universe hanging in the balance? No, nothing comes to mind,” Shiro offered dryly.

“Hm! Well, if it wasn't getting to you before, I don't see why it would be getting to you now...are you sure there isn't anything else?” Coran pressed, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Any other thoughts that have been rattling away in that little brain box of yours?”

Shiro folded his arms, crestfallen, and grew hesitant as he sat back down. “Well...”

“Ah, yup. See, I knew it!”

Choosing to ignore just how cocky Coran's interruption actually was, Shiro looked over at him again reproachfully.

“Lately...I've been wondering what'll happen to the others if I wasn't around anymore.”

Coran drew back. “What's that, now?”

“It's not as though they can't make it. They can. But getting them to see that and pull together the way they should is–,”

Shiro...you're not thinking of leaving team Voltron, are you?”

“Of course not.” Shiro closed his eyes for a moment, bowing his head. “But you've gotta admit, the odds are stacked against us. The Galra took me once before, and I became their soldier. I still have their tech in my arm – _as_ my arm. And the last time I fought Haggar...something tells me they're not done trying to bring me back over to their side, whether I like it or not.”

“But Shiro, there's no need to worry about things like that,” Coran chided, concern etching the lines in his face. “Or even think about it, really. Now, I'm not saying there's no need to be careful, but honestly, do you really think that we'd just settle for something like that? If Zarkon's army were to get a hold of you, well...then we'd just have to come and take you right back!”

Despite himself, Shiro couldn't help a light laugh escaping him, shaking his head at the simplicity of the notion.

“Right. Thanks, Coran.” He got to his feet again. “Well, I'd better get going. Looks like we've almost reached the Balmera.”

Coran's demeanor remained somber, however, as he powered down the console.

“You'd best be careful, Shiro,” he uttered. “Too many of these 'mental clashes' with Zarkon aren't only putting the Black Lion at risk. With enough exposure, your own mind is open to–,”

“Don't sweat the Black Lion,” Shiro interrupted, offering a slight smile. “If there's one thing I do know, it's that there's no way Zarkon is getting his hands on it ever again. I'll make sure of that.”

 

Sprawled out across his bed, staring at the ceiling, and with little more to do than lie on his back and read his book, Lance was bored. He didn't know what the equivalent was for cabin fever was inside a giant, flying castle, but he had it. Castle fever. The minutes dragged by and became hours, the hours dragged by and became days – three, to be exact, because counting them was one of the only ways he had left to entertain himself. A few times, he had contemplated the odds of sneaking out of his room to go and see Blue, but when he did leave, there always seemed to be someone there to usher him back inside like he was some kind of space prisoner. Lance surmised it must have been slow going around the ship after the fight with Zarkon, because it seemed as though nobody had anything better to do than stand guard over him and drive him crazy.

It had come as a surprise to wake up in a cryopod, and when he did, it had taken some time to remember exactly what had happened. After that, the first thing he was told to do was 'take it easy,' because he had been through a lot, and it would be good for him. The sentiment had sounded like an invitation to a well-earned vacation at first, but being cooped up in his room all day was overkill, in Lance's opinion. However, considering he was still struggling to recall anything between being hurtling through space and waking up a few days later, he was finding it difficult to argue his case.

“Better safe than sorry!” Coran had sing-songed in response to his initial protests, excruciatingly persistent in his efforts. “Cryogenic tech is not a magic fix, after all!”

“But...it _is_ ,” Lance retorted. “That's – that's literally what it is, it's a giant, magic, alien space pod that brings you back from the dead!”

But nobody wanted to listen to what he had to say, as it turned out, and he let out an exasperated sigh as he rolled onto his side, uncharacteristically melancholy in his solitude. Sure, he was a little stiff, but who wouldn't be, after spending the last few days as a human popsicle? He had been banged up pretty bad, from what Coran said, but it wasn't like he was hurting anymore, and any little residual aches and pains he felt were normal, all par for the course of being a paladin of Voltron.

None of them had mentioned his lion at first. Lance had asked to see it several times, but there only so many excuses he could hear before he figured out that he wasn't the only one who had come back in pieces. It was bad, no doubt about it...in fact, as time went on, he was beginning to think that maybe he didn't want to see Blue just yet after all.

As another exaggerated sigh escaped him, he hooked his earbuds back in and cracked open his book again (a guide to spacecraft mechanics that Hunk had picked up – dull, but it was better than counting the ceiling tiles...or counting the number of times he'd counted the ceiling tiles). It was only when he heard the door slide open nearby that he glanced up again, demands to leave already bubbling up in his throat, but the last person he expected to see letting themselves tentatively into the room with a tray of food clutched between rigid fingers was –,

“Keith?”

Keith hesitated in the doorway at the sound of his name, turning briefly to make sure no one had seen him come in and then determinedly ignoring Lance's gaze as he stepped inside. He looked uncomfortable, to put it mildly, his face white as a sheet and his stormy eyes tumultuous as he sought out something to look at that wasn't Lance. Even so, he was in much better condition than he had been the last time Lance had seen him, enough that his usual scowl was back in place not a moment after he had stepped over the threshold.

“Yeah. Uh...hi.” He motioned to the tray he was clutching awkwardly, glaring at the desk in the far corner. “...Figured you'd be hungry.”

There was a pause. Lance unhooked his earbuds.

“Uh...huh. Sure, a little.” He propped himself up on his elbows, eyeing Keith skeptically.

Squirming beneath his scrutiny, Keith shifted his weight self-consciously from foot to foot, a growl escaping across his breath. “...What?”

Lance wondered if he had lost a bet. No part of him looked as though he wanted to be there, but he didn't look as though he was going to just leave again, either, even with nobody else around to make him stay. Lance shook his head.

“Uh...nothing.” He leaned back. “Okay, so...are you gonna give it to me, or what?”

Keith faltered. “H-huh?”

“The food, man.”

“Oh...” Glancing down at the tray, Keith relented to slink across the room and deposit it on Lance's bed, hovering over him at arm's length like an ominous specter.

_Maybe I am dying, after all, and he's come to drag me down into the underworld..._

“Thanks.”

But to his surprise, not a moment later Keith had sat down on the edge of the mattress as well, his hands clasping his knees tightly. Though he had yet to look Lance in the face, his own profile was deeply troubled, pensive from Lance's vantage point. Lance straightened up to examine the food he had brought – green goop and some sort of foul-smelling plant – and crossed his legs, settling his chin into his hand while he waited.

Keith didn't say anything, however, and Lance fixed him with an exasperated stare through the gaps in his fingers as the two of them sat there, beginning to wonder whether the other paladin's company was any better than being alone.

“So, uh...what is this?” he tried finally, picking up the mottled plant and dangling it between two fingers.

Keith glanced briefly toward him, then away again. “...Dunno. Coran said it'd be good for you.”

Lance made a face and set it back down. “Euch. No thanks, that's all I need to know, count me out...”

He peered over at Keith again, but his face was unchanged, and he clearly wasn't listening...Lance looked him up and down though slitted eyes, trying to figure out what his issue was. There was time to spare to play the waiting game, but patience had never been one of Lance's strong suits, and not a moment later, he drew in a deep breath.

“Sssso, uh–,”

“...I'm sorry.” Thin hands tightened against the edge of the mattress, knuckles turning white as Keith cut him short, visibly wilting where he sat as the words tumbled out of him without warning. “About...what happened. With you. A-and your lion. Your lion's busted 'cause of me. And...you could've...you could've...you know.”

He shrugged in vain attempt to complete his sentence, turning away.

“...I messed up. I'm...I'm sorry.”

Lance rubbed the back of his head, not sure what he had expected. It was one thing to deal with Keith when he was in one of his moods, but apologetic Keith? That was a new one...in fact, it was unheard of. For a moment, Lance wondered if Keith had ever apologized to anyone, ever, in his entire life. Had the situation been any different, he might have asked.

Everything that happened after he was blasted free from the Galra's clutches was still hazy to Lance, but he remembered enough. All the painful parts, at least. The explosions, mostly, and the impact of high-powered beams, spiraling asteroids. How he had lost control of pretty much everything. He even remembered the blast from when Keith's lion had cut through his own like scrap metal and sent him hurtling across the cosmos, though everything that came after that was such a blur that it was all starting to blend together in his memory.

But he also remembered that Keith had come for him. That was the important part.

He threw his narrow shoulders up in a dismissive shrug. “Hey – look – I mean, it's not like you did it on purpose, right? Don't get me wrong, that battle sucked, like, more than any other battle ever, hands down, in the history of everything.”

Keith rolled his eyes at his logic, but said nothing.

“But...it's the Galra who are to blame for all this stuff, you know? _They_ attacked _us_. And they tried to kidnap Blue, which was totally uncool.”

He shrugged flippantly again. So...like...don't sweat it, is all I'm saying. S'okay.”

He cast a sidelong glance over in Keith's direction to study his troubled profile, but it was unchanged.

_Nothing, huh?_

Keith stirred in surprise as a hand knocked into his arm to get his attention, looking around to find an old, scratched earbud being offered to him. Lance grinned, hooking the other one into his own ear.

“Here, check it out. Altean music from like, ten thousand years ago. Pretty crazy, right?”

Keith looked taken aback, but then reached up hesitantly and took the other piece, casting a skeptical look in Lance's direction as he began to listen.

“...Where did you even get this?”

He found himself almost nostalgic, remembered how all the trainees back at the Garrison had spent their free periods listening to music through similar gadgets to pass the time away. He had left his own behind after he had flunked out, but...

Lance thought back.

“Well, the music player and the headphones were just some junk I picked up at that space mall we visited,” he recalled. “Pidge fixed 'em up for me. The music...ehhh...you can blame Coran for that.”

Keith was contemplative for a time, growing quiet, and then looked over at Lance at last to voice his opinion.

“It...it's awful,” he concluded.

Lance grinned. “Hey, it's kinda been growing on me!”

Keith looked dubious, but sighed in resignation nonetheless and tilted his head back, content to share the burden of listening with Lance for a time as he closed his eyes. Internally, he couldn't help but be relieved, knowing that Lance wasn't angry with him, but his expression remained troubled; he had spent several days avoiding the other paladin entirely as he tried to figure out what he might say, and even after he _had_ figured that out, it didn't seem like enough. He also worried over what Lance might say in return, but even knowing the answer to that hadn't made the guilt go away like he thought it would.

He leaned back, setting his hands behind him on the mattress, then tensed abruptly as the side of fingers brushed Lance's, rotating his wrist slightly to break the connection and looking away.

“Sorry. So, uh...how are you feeling?”

He didn't think he had ever been good at small talk, especially where Lance was concerned.

“Oh...well...you know, can't complain. Doing better than my lion, I guess.”

Keith's expression sobered again, and he gazed grimly across the far side of the room.  
“Your lion...” he murmured, his shoulders sagging.

At first, he had feared the damage was so bad that even Coran wouldn't be able to fix it...as usual, Lance was equipped with nothing but sheer dumb luck and had somehow survived, but judging by the state his lion was in, Keith wasn't sure how that had even been possible. Needless to say, the Blue Lion wouldn't be flying for a while, but after spending several days working on it, Pidge and Coran both seemed optimistic. Not that it changed the fact that for the time being, they could no longer form Voltron, nor the fact that Lance had no lion to pilot, nor–,

“-?!”

Keith tensed visibly, not daring to look down as he felt fingers graze his own for the second time in as many minutes, just a little. Warm. From the very corner of his eyes, he chanced a glimpse at Lance, but the other paladin wasn't looking at him either anymore. When he spoke, his tone was lower than before, softer.

“Hey...like I said...don't beat yourself up over it,” he uttered. “Blue's gonna be fine...right? And...you can't just be mad at yourself forever and stuff. I mean...you saved my life.”

Looking across the room again, Keith was rigid, but after a moment, he found it in him to offer a nod, barely perceptible. Straining to hear over the pounding in his ears.

Lance nodded as well, regarding the cracks between the wall panels. “So...it's fine.”

A silence fell between them, cautious but not unwelcoming, much like the warmth that was beginning to spread through cautious touches, fledgling emotions, like kindling on a budding flame. The alien melody from the music player was background noise, separate from everything else, and largely unnoticed. Once or twice, words bubbled to the surface of an unspoken conversation, but none were voiced, at least not out loud. At a crawling cadence, fingers grazed one another blindly, dancing a gradual waltz, yet never quite interlocking. For the first time, a mutual expedition took place over the peaks and valleys of protruding knuckles, slid through the chasms of loosely-connected digits, ran across skin and bone and sinew, hesitant but pervasive, noncommittal, and yet, persistent. A re-introduction that no one had asked for, nor seen coming, nor had any tangible end in sight.

It was only at the piercing whine of air pressure being released into the atmosphere that Keith was the first to wrench himself away, dazed eyes upon the door as it yawned open to reveal Shiro's broad silhouette. The spell broke like the shattering of the most fragile glass, and in the aftermath, he felt a radiant heat spreading throughout his body.

“Keith.” Shiro nodded. “Figured you were still here. Come on...it's time to leave."

“Oh...right.”

“Huh, what?” Lance looked up finally, his own features pallid as he shook himself free of residual stupor as Keith gathered himself to his feet. “Leave? Where are you guys goin'?”

Keith chanced a glance over his shoulder, but Lance still wasn't looking directly at him...he quickly averted his own gaze again as well.

“There's a Balmera nearby,” he explained, rubbing the back of his neck. “Me n' Shiro were gonna go there to harvest some of the crystals. Coran said we need 'em to fix the Blue lion.”

Shiro nodded. “Yup. Good news, huh?”

“Oh.” Lance scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, uh...cool!”

Keith turned away hastily. “Yeah. So, uh, we'll be back soon, and...”

“Yeah.”

“O...okay.”

“Okay.

Shiro folded his arms, somewhat exasperated as he raised an eyebrow between the two of them. This was a headache waiting to happen, he could just tell. The lingering silence was almost painful, dragging on unbearably, and he couldn't withstand more than a few seconds of it.

“You guys, uh...okay? Did you get into another fight?”

“Nope, yup, got it, Balmera fracking sounds all good here man, I gotcha,” Lance waved his hand dismissively and snatched up his book, burying his nose in it hastily and obscuring his strained features from view.

“O...kay.”

“Yup! I'll be here...I mean...where else would I be? Nobody will let me leave, so, if you were wondering to yourself, hey, where's Lance, ask no more...” From behind the pages of the manual, he offered a brief wave. “Go nuts!”

Keith lifted his eyes to Shiro's watchful gaze, ducking his head as he moved hastily past him. “...What he said. Come on, I'm ready. Let's go.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little late...the flu has been slowing me down, and it's been an overall challenge to get it to a state where I'm willing to consider publishing it. Sorry for that, but I hope you enjoy the end result.


	6. Chapter 6

“Shiro...how much further?”

Across the horizon, the silhouettes of the Black and Red Lions overlooking the snowy planes of the Balmera's surface were growing faint. Settled into a distant orbit around the star it had chosen to call home, its frigid temperatures were a far cry from the desert tundra to which they had grown accustomed from their visits to the inhabited Balmera several galaxies away. On this one, no Galra tech could be found, nor any indication of a native people. The gusting snow shrouded the surface in mystery, and no life stirred from within its folds.

The temperature regulation tech built into their armor was overclocked, but Keith wrapped his arms around himself regardless in attempt to stay warm as they trudged onward. Slightly ahead of him, Shiro tapped their tracking device against his hand a couple of times, his sigh crackling through the intercom in Keith's helmet.

“I keep losing the signal, I think the temperature is interfering with the readings,” he uttered. “But it still says there are some battle class crystals up ahead. You holding out okay?”

“Yeah...you?”

Shiro smiled dryly. “A leisurely stroll through a winter wonderland? Can't complain.”

Scaling a dusted dune, the wind cut through them unrelentingly as they reached the summit overlooking a rolling valley...shielding his visor against the incoming flurries with one hand, Keith squinted across the horizon and nudged Shiro's arm before pointing forwards.

“There.” He indicated one of the crystalline geodes stretching toward the dismal skyline, shimmering through its snow-caked facets and glowing a notably different hue from the rest.

Shiro lifted the tracker, examining the readings on the screen and then following Keith's finger.

“Yeah...looks like that's it,” he agreed. “And...it looks like we're not the only ones who want a piece.”

Sure enough, even from where they stood, the winged beasts encircling the mountainous geode were clearly visible, a testament to their massive size...far bigger than even Voltron, they swept downwards every so often to attach to the crystal itself, feeding off its energies before taking flight again.

“Great...” Keith looked up at Shiro. “Not like we have time to find another one.”

Shiro nodded. “It's a ways off. We need to get back to the lions before nightfall, or we'll really be in trouble.”

“Right.” Expression set in determination, Keith started down the other side of the dune, but then slid to a halt again to look back up over his shoulder as he realized he was on his own. “Shiro?”

Shiro's profile was grim as he gazed back across the rifts and valleys laid out in their wake, lingering. Hesitant, Keith took a step back up the snowy slope, watching him.

“Shiro, what's wrong?”

“...It's Zarkon,” Shiro answered tersely, drawing a look of surprise from the other paladin. “He's trying to take control of the Black Lion.”

“What?!” Checking his footing, Keith trekked slowly back up to the peak, his eyes wide. “Now? Are you sure? How can you tell?”

“I...I just can.” Distracted, Shiro glanced back at Keith. “I have to go back.”

Keith hesitated. “What about the crystal?”

He looked out over the valley again. The sun, as distant as it was, was creeping steadily toward the horizon, beckoning in an even more terrible cold as it did so.

“We can't let Zarkon get the Black Lion,” Shiro insisted, setting a firm hand on Keith's shoulder. “You can handle this...right?”

Keith looked out over the horizon again, then offered a vague grin.

“Compared to all the other stuff we've done? Piece of cake.”

“I knew I could count on you.”

The words swelled in Keith's chest as he watched Shiro take off back in the direction they had come from, a sense of renewed determination cutting through the icy monotony. Violet eyes narrowed in careful observation, watching the lilting flight patterns of the creatures swarming the crystalline outcropping in the valley, but strategizing had never been one of Keith's strong suites. As always, to him, it was simple: get in, get out, and fight through anything that got in the way.

Kicking up a cloud of snowy debris in his wake, Keith slid down the face of the slope and into the valley below, darting between the towering geodes and icy outcroppings as he made his way toward the target. With his bayard in one hand and the Marmoran blade in the other, he tore through the unforgiving valley with relentless determination.

_You can count on me, Shiro. Just wait and see._

 

_Two Days Later_

“How are we supposed to find them?” Lance's tone was uncharacteristically tight, strained. “Everything's covered in snow.”

“Do you remember back on earth, how they would talk about a _snowpocalypse_?” Hunk recalled. “That's great and all, but this... _this_ is a snowpocalypse.”

Overlooking the stark capades, Pidge adjusted her glasses before looking back own at the tracker on the Green Lion's display and had to agree. “This is why I stay inside – inside is good, inside is _warm_. But not too warm, I don't like that either–,”

Promptly, Coran's voice crackled to life via their intercoms, his face flickering onto the console. “That's quite enough of that! Is everybody ready to split up and start looking?”

“Split – split up?” Hunk interrupted, sitting forward in his lion. “Uhh...nobody said anything about splitting up. I mean, what if _we_ get lost, too? And besides, why are we splitting up if we've got a...lion tracker?”

“Well...” Coran's mustache twitched. “You see, the thing is...the extreme conditions in this area are interfering with the signal from the other lions.”

“Intefering with the signal _how_?”

“Well, the signal, you see...there, erm...there isn't one.”

The strained babbling between the remaining paladins quietened, and there was an audible thud as Lance slammed his fist into the dashboard of Hunk's lion, drawing an indignant look from the yellow paladin.

“Hey...”

“Look, who cares about that?!” Far be it for Lance to lose his temper, but the edge in his voice suggested he was getting uncharacteristically close. “If splitting up is all we can do, then why are we just sitting around here? Let's _go_.”

Hunk held his hands up defensively, taken aback. “Okay, okay. Uhhh...Pidge? You wanna go...that way into the snowy abyss, and I'll go...this way into the snowy abyss?”

“Paladins,” Allura interjected. “We must find Keith and Shiro...but we cannot lose anyone else. We are down to three Paladins and two lions, putting us at a great disadvantage. If Zarkon were to strike now, our defenses would fall. Please, you must hurry.”

“Hunk, let's _go_ ,” Lance demanded tersely.

_Czzccckczzck._

“Wait.” Peering over her console with mounted interest, Pidge brought her hand thoughtfully to her chin. “We may be picking something up. Coran, can you boost the frequency?”

_Czzzcckckkk._

“Keith? Shiro?” Lance leaned anxiously over Hunk's shoulder. “Is anybody there?”

“... _czzzckckk..._ come in.... _cczkzckzzk..._ hear me...?”

“Shiro?!” Disregarding Hunk entirely, Lance reached over him to adjust the signal frequency on the dashboard intercom.

“Shiro? Hey...hey, Shiro, it's us, you know, your buddies, we've come to rescue you...” Hunk cupped his hands around his mouth as though it might somehow help carry the sound.

“... _czzkkzzk..._ Hunk? Lance?”

“He-ey, Shiro!” Hunk cheered. “You're alive!”

Lance pushed Hunk aside again so he could speak, anxiety threaded through his tone. “Shiro, what happened? Where are you, where's...where's Keith?”

“... _cczzkcck...cczkzzzkk...czzzkzk..._ hurry!”

“Shiro? Shiro? Shiro!”

“Paladins!” Coran interjected. “I've traced the signal from Shiro's communication broadcast. I'm uploading the coordinates to you now!”

Lance pounded the console. “Shiro, answer me! Are you hurt?! _Where's Keith_?”

“Coordinates uploaded. Let's go!”

 


	7. Chapter 7

“I've locked onto your coordinates. I'm landing now.”

Shielding his visor from the barrage of falling snow, Keith turned his gaze upwards to find the Black Lion encroaching through the flurries, its glossy armor dim against the colorless skies. Ceasing to a halt atop the ridge, Keith was sure to give the lion a wide berth, waiting for Shiro to ease it onto the plateau across the far end of the slopes before approaching.

“Need a ride?”

Keith grinned up at Shiro as the lion's hatch yawned open, tossing his thumb over one shoulder.

“One Balmeran fighter-class crystal ready for transport.”

Shiro's feet hit the ground heavily as he hopped down from the lion's cockpit to help Keith load the portable transporter inside. “Great job, Keith. Did you run into any trouble?”

Keith offered him a slight smile. “What do you think?”

Shiro chuckled. “All right. Let's get this loaded up, and–,”

Something white-hot flew past them in an instant, striking the side of the Black Lion and issuing a cloud of evaporating steam as it cooled...in unison, both Keith and Shiro whipped around, but not quickly enough. Abruptly, Keith felt something strike the side of his armor, a searing pain radiating through the cracks...from the corner of his eye, he saw Shiro jerk backwards as he was struck in the chest, reaching for him on instinct.

Bitterly, Shiro clenched his teeth, gripping his chest as he steadied himself from the blast, his mechanical arm already starting to glow.

“Galra!” he uttered lowly. “So Zarkon was able to track the Black Lion down after all...”

Keith drew his bayard, ducking behind the lion's leg with Shiro as the blasts continued, hauling the transporter with him.

“What's the plan?”

Shiro's eyes narrowed in contemplation. “Keep them away from the crystal...I'll cover you. Then we'll duck out of here once we find an opening.”

“You got it.”

Readying his bayard, Keith counted to three under his breath before launching himself out from behind the lion and sliding down the snowy bank, the momentum carrying him past the laser blasts. At close range, he could see foot soldiers approaching, and behind them in the distance, a fighter pod descending in low. The main fleet was nowhere to be found, though it was surely on the way if what Shiro said was true.

Several Galran sentries fell before Keith reached the bottom of the incline, the others meeting him at close range near the base...he drew his bayard up as his feet hit solid ground again and struck down the nearest offenders, leaping over the rest to strike them down from behind.

Behind him, he heard a familiar whirring as the Black Lion came to life, though he didn't spare it a glance as he went in to strike down more Galran soldiers...several more fell to his blade, but he felt himself grabbed from behind without warning, struggling to free his arms as the assailants held him back.

As they grappled, however, the three of them were suddenly cast in shadow, and Keith felt the grip on his arms loosen as he turned his attention upward to the lion taking to the sky above them. The Galran soldiers took a step backwards, wary, and Keith struck down the closet ones before running for the slope again. Behind him, several soldiers took aim, but before they could fire, the Black Lion landed between them, opening its mouth and unleashing a mighty blast that careened down the length of the snow-ridden plains and left a sizzling streak in its wake.

The facets of the crystal caught the sun from the corner of Keith's eye, and he turned to see several Galra hastening toward it...he chased after them while Shiro cleared out the rest, hiking the incline and striking them down in his wake.

Snow spiraled up around him as the Black Lion came to settle again nearby, moving to board the transport pod.

“Need a hand?” Shiro prompted through his headset.

Keith shook his head, but before he could move the transport pod up onto the lion, he caught movemnet from the corner of his eye...he turned in time to see one of the damaged sentries strewn about the snowy dune lift its blaster, its lower body still sparking...it fired, and Keith drew his bayard's shield just moments before the laser struck. His footing unsteady in the surrounding snow from the unexpected attack, Keith felt the impact sent him backwards, followed by a second, then a third-,

“Keith!"

For a split second, Keith saw Shiro dropping down from the lion's cockpit, but the sentry shot one final time...the blast tore through the armor in Keith's leg beneath the shield, and along with the transport pod, he found himself crashing down the backside of the dune. Behind him, a mountain of snow began to slip, and temporarily, everything went dark as it all crashed down on top of him.

He wasn't buried for long, however, and something beneath him gave way...the snow-covered ground below was weak, and without warning, he found himself crashing through it into a small underground cavern far below, snow raining down after him as he slowly began to stir, his helmet rolling away from him as he pushed himself groggily onto all fours.

His hand outstretched at the peak of the dune, Shiro was still for a time, his eyes wide as he gazed upon the white abyss into which the other paladin had disappeared. From his vantage point, he could barely see the drop off from the cave in, lingering for a moment as the Balmeran plains became still once more.

“ _Keith_!”

Launching himself to his feet, Shiro slid down the length of the dune, stumbling to the newly formed entrance to the deep cavern below and gazing into its depths for a moment before he jumped in, his jet pack easing his landing as his feet hit the ground running.

“Keith...hey! Keith...” Hastily, he dropped to the ground and took Keith up in his arms, his dark eyes urgent. “You okay, buddy?”

Keith lifted his head a little, Shiro's anxious features coming into focus a few moments later. “U...ugh. I've been better...”

“Take it easy,” Shiro cautioned, craning his neck to gaze up at the entrance to the cavern far above them. “Let's get you back up to the lion...”

Lifting Keith in his arms, he rose to his feet in a single motion, pausing as a small shower of snow fell down over their heads. Shiro paused, his eyes meeting Keith's for a moment in realization.

“...Run,” Keith uttered.

Shiro dove, and not a moment later, the avalanche from the the arching dune that yawened over the cave entrance gave way, crashing to the rocky ground below like a powdery waterfall...Keith and Shiro landed nearby beneath one of the rocky overhangs, but there was little to do but watch as snow continued to pour down from above, piling up around the small hole in the ground and blocking them in completely.

Cut off from the outside world, the interior of the cavern was suddenly silent, dark save for the bio-luminescent rocks all around them that cast the area in a warm green glow.

“Ngh...Shiro?”

Sitting up, Keith's fingers entangled in his long hair to combat the throbbing, and Shiro lifted himself up nearby with a sigh.

“Yeah, I'm okay...” He looked around. “This could've gone better, huh?”

Keith grinned a little. “Yeah.”

“Sit tight. I'm gonna look around...doesn't look like we're going to be able to contact the Castle of Lions from here.”

Pushing himself up slightly so he could lean against the cave wall, Keith didn't need to be told twice. Gripping his thigh with both hands, he tried to assess the damage to his leg from the laser blast, but it was hard to tell in the poor light. He leaned back again, his eyes drifting shut as he waited for the cave to stop spinning, his breathing louder in his ears than usual.

“...eith...Keith!”

Keith cracked his eyes open again, but not long enough to get his bearings before he was grabbed roughly by the shoulder. Shiro's face swam into focus above him again, his eyes ablaze.

“I thought I could count on you.”

Lifting his head a little and shaking it, Keith squirmed slightly beneath the grip on his shoulder, focusing in on Shiro. “What...?”

“The crystal.” Shiro moved aside so he could see...a short ways away from them, the transport pod lay broken, the crystal atop it cracked in two.

Keith gazed at it, realization dawning on him, and opened his mouth as he turned to look back at Shiro to say something...but instead, his head snapped all the way around as he felt a sudden blow across his face, the sound echoing around the silence of the cavern.

Not a moment later, his back hit the wall again, this time with more force as Shiro gripped him around the throat.

“You said you could handle it.” Shiro's voice was like a jackhammer in his skull. “Your job was to get the crystal back to the lions safely...that was all you had to do!”

Keith's fingers closed softly around Shiro's wrist, coughing.

“Damn it! If I can't trust you with this, how am I supposed to trust you with anything?! How is – _anybody_ \-- supposed to count on you?!”

“Shir...o...”

Keith lifted his uninjured leg, planting his foot against Shiro's chest, presin him backwards slowly and still gripping the hand around his neck.

“You were supposed to make sure nothing happened to it!”

Clenching his teeth, Keith pushed harder, easing Shiro away from him until, finally, he broke free, rolling to one side and coughing hard for a moment before stumbling to his feet. His bad leg nearly gave out underneath him, but he managed to duck behind one of the rocky stalagmites protruding from the cavern floor and lean against it before Shiro could catch him. Chest heaving down rapidly as he tried to catch his breath and keep from coughing again, he tensed at the sound of footsteps approaching and pressed himself up against the rock.

“Keith, this isn't a game. Come back!”

Keith pushed away from the stalagmite and stumbled around another just as Shiro rounded the corner, his eyes widening at the sound of a cybernetic fist shattering stone.

“Keith!”

Leaning down to clutch at his leg, Keith stole hastily toward the far side of the cavern, his head ducked low to keep out of sight. The broken transporter lay nearby, just out of reach.

Then, without warning, he found himself tossed to the side like a ragdoll, rolling several times across the stone floor before growing still, closing one eye as he felt something wet run down his forehead. From his off-kilter point of view, he could see Shiro's legs walking past him, his vision tunneling. It was as though the mountain of snow that had crashed down on him was still there, still pressing down on his body, making it hard to breathe...the sounds of Shiro's footsteps echoed in his ears, then began to fade away as his eyes drifted shut, only vaguely aware of someone tending to his leg, binding it in something to stop the bleeding and sending pain shooting up and down the dead weight that was his body...then nothing.

 

 

“...ome in. Hey, can you guys hear me?”

Keith couldn't tell if it was the first time or the hundredth time that he had opened his eyes to the glowing green floor of a cave...in front of him, his hand curled into a light fist, just to see if he could move it.

“Hunk? Lance?”

Groggily, Keith rolled over onto his back, the sound of static jarring his senses...from the corner of his hazy vision, he could sense movement nearby.

He lifted his eyes, focusing in on the shape of his discarded helmet nearby. Without thinking, he reached out, stretching his hand toward it, the sounds of the distorted voices coming through it.

“... _czzchh_...he-ey, Shiro! You're alive-,"

Like a steel trap, a foot came down over Keith's wrist, pinning his arm to the ground just as his fingertips brushed the edge of his helmet. A sharp expulsion of air raced out of him, flinching from the impact, and somewhere up above him, he heard an echoing voice.

“Guys, there isn't much time...hurry!”

“... _czzzcchhh_...Shiro... _ccczchhh_...Are you hurt?! Where's-,”

Keith's eyes drifted shut again, his wrist growing limp beneath the armored boot on top of it.

_That was...Lance..._

 


	8. Chapter 8

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Coran had been wrong.

A tick _was_ slower than a second.

Much slower.

Tick.

An eternity passed between each one as it echoed off the hollow interior of the chamber of cryopods, offensive to the stillness and the silence there. The emergency lighting cast an eerie glow throughout the desaturated metal paneling, making the room feel a few degrees colder than it really was and seeping a directionless chill into the otherwise tempered air regulation system. Meanwhile, the exposed pod hummed quietly nearby.

Tick.

It wasn't as though Lance made a habit of watching Keith sleep. He would notice, sometimes, through sidelong looks when the red paladin dozed off with folded arms and sullen expression still set firmly in place as he slouched in the common area, or other times when the five of them returned from a particularly harrowing mission and proceeded to contort themselves over various pieces of furniture long before they made it back to their quarters. Lately, he'd seen Keith sleep a lot, and for a moment, a memory came floating to the surface as he reminisced...the tinny melody of alien music echoing through an alien mall in the depths of unknown space as a familiar weight pressed into his shoulder, spreading a warmth that reminded him of home.

Tick.

But while Lance was busy not noticing any of that, what he did notice was how still Keith looked behind the glass, compared to all those other times. Even the display panel on the pod's exterior seemed more alive, the backlight flickering just for a moment each time it refreshed his vitals. A mechanical gatekeeper that reminded Lance how many more ticks he would need to wait, how far away he still was from morning. He just needed to wait until morning. That's all they kept saying, to each other, to him, to themselves, as though adding the word “just” would somehow make it go by faster.

It didn't.

For the first time since he had lost track of the ticks, Lance unfolded long limbs and rose slowly to his feet in a flurry of cracks and pops, stretching out stiff joints and slipping his hands into his pockets as he sauntered up to the glass. Beside the other paladin's quiet features, he could see his own troubled, slightly pouting expression reflected back at him. He wanted to know what difference a few hours would make, but Coran had only told them all to be patient, and eventually, the others had dispersed. They wouldn't have known he was still there...still waiting. Still wondering why he couldn't reach up and push the release on the side of the pod, just to convince himself that Keith really was still alive inside, that the digital display next to him hadn't simply malfunctioned.

Tick.

He wasn't sure what would happen once the pod opened. For some reason, he didn't want anyone else to be there when it did.

Tick.

Keith was probably hungry. Shiro had been, when he woke up.

Tick.

He was beginning to forget what Keith's voice sounded like.

Tick.

He'd found him in the snow.

Tick.

The low hiss of released pressure pierced the quiet of the chamber, and Lance's jaw jutted stubbornly as he hit the button and the front of the pod began to slide open. They could always close it again. It would only be for a few minutes, anyway. What would it hurt, when the scrapes and cuts that covered Keith's face had faded away hours ago.

Like any good teammate would, he reasoned, he just wanted Keith to open his eyes.

But moments later, stubborn determination quickly gave way to unanticipated panic, unable to undo what he'd done as Keith slipped from the pod into his arms in one swift motion, his body limp. Lance had hardly prepared for the sudden contact, time speeding up again too quickly for him to keep track as a million thoughts raced through his mind. He didn't have time to process what was happening before his arms came up to catch the other paladin, fear paralyzing his limbs a moment later.

His knees bent of their own accord until they made careful contact with the floor, not sure what else to do as his pounding heart revolted against his decision to open the door. He'd messed up, made another stupid decision, done something else that he couldn't take back, and it was all going to go horribly wrong--,

But Keith opened his eyes, a slight twitch in the limp knuckles that dragged on the floor by Lance's knees as he did so. Before he realized it, Lance found himself holding his breath, as though the next expulsion of air would break the fragile spell of consciousness seeping into Keith's features...and at the same time, horrified that the other paladin might wake to wonder why Lance was so close to him.

“H-hey man.” After the perpetual silence, his own voice, the pounding of his heart, sounded awkwardly loud in his ears. “Take it easy.”

He glanced down briefly, but Keith's eyes were on the far wall, or perhaps looking beyond it, and Lance swallowed the panicky tightness in his throat a couple of times,Keith's hair grazing his throat.

“I-it's...it's about time you woke up,” he continued, lacking the confidence he tried to inject into his voice. “People...people were worried, y'know?”

All he could think about was that he'd never been so close to another person before. Not like they were now. Regardless, he didn't let go. He ducked his head.

“...Me too, a little,” he uttered hesitantly. “I mean...we couldn't find you guys...even after we locked onto your coordinates, so, like, anyone would be worried.”

The silence was deafening, but all the things he'd wanted to say, all the things that had been building up over his own private eternity, everything vyed for priority at the surface, and he found that he didn't know where to start.

In the end, he cut past the rest and got right to it.

“...You and Shiro have been gone for three weeks.”

He shook his head. After he said it, he felt foolish. As if Keith didn't know it. He probably thought it had been longer than that. Probably thought they had given up.

“One minute, we were talking to Shiro and got a read on you guys, and the next...we still don't know what happened. Shiro's still recovering too, and he said it's all just a blur. F-figures, huh? I mean...for a while there after we lost the signal, we...we thought that...”

Keith said nothing.

“But...then later, we found both of you. G-good thing, huh?”

Behind them, the cryopod retracted back into the floor. Lance cleared his throat hastily.

“Oh...and just so you know, _I'm_ the one at found you.”

_I thought...you were dead._

“S-so...so you can just tally that up in the old, 'things-I-need-to-thank-Lance-for' book...Keith?”

He glanced down, but Keith's listless gaze was unchanged, and as the silence settled again, the gripping panic and tumultuous nerves quietened within Lance, leaving instead an icy, rigid calm of which he wouldn't have thought himself capable.

Something was wrong, and suddenly, he didn't care what Keith thought of him bringing his hand up to rest against the back of the other paladin's head, tightening his hold around his limp frame just a little bit more.

“...What the hell happened out there?” he asked quietly. The silence was agonizing, but he endured it. “Hey--,”

His breath caught as a pair of thin arms lifted up off the ground at last, abruptly folding around his body to firmly grip the material at the back of his shirt. To Lance's surprise, the embrace was strong, all-encompassing, just the kind that deep down, he'd never really thought he would be on the receiving end of...he felt suddenly as though he was the one that had gone missing, and that Keith was not only _relieved_ to see him, but that _Keith_ was relieved to see _him_. And once again, it was as though an eternity was passing him by, but this time around, Lance didn't mind so much...even if, in reality, it was just a few minutes, and more ticks than he cared to count. Whatever he had been about to say suddenly didn't seem important, because it was just them, alone in the dark and quiet of the empty chamber.

 

In the end, morning came after all before either of them moved from their crumpled positions in the middle of the cryopods. The kitchen hardly boasted anything in the way of morning coffee, but it had something else that Coran had always insisted was probably just as good, and Lance slid a steaming paper cup of it across the island. Keith caught it in slightly bruised fingers and drank a little. He had lost weight in his absence, unsurprising considering the lack of sustenance available beneath the frozen tundra of the balmera, but his appetite had yet to catch up to him.

Lance settled across from him and diverted his gaze elsewhere, idly sipping at his own drink just so that he would have something to do. From within the depths of the castle, he could hear distant noises as the rest of its occupants began to stir. The silence that had accompanied them throughout the night would soon take its leave, and he couldn't decide how he felt about that. It had grown heavy, but he had become accustomed to it, and it was something that they alone had shared. Perhaps that was part of what stopped him from asking Keith what had happened again while he still had a chance. Where he'd gone. About the condition he'd been in when Lance finally reached him and lifted his upper body from beneath the falling snow. How he and Shiro had even survived. Why the _hell_ he'd pulled such a stunt in the first place, just to get a damn crystal for the sake of Lance's lion (they had found the crystal in its cracked state at the place where they had first locked on to Keith and Shiro's coordinates, but it had still been in better condition than the two missing paladins. One way or another, they had done what they set out to do).

Lance sat back, tapping restless fingers on the countertop. Keith obviously still wasn't in much of a talking mood – not that he ever was – and fatigue was beginning to settle in. For all he knew, the other paladin didn't even want him there by that point, and just hadn't said anything about it.

And so, he stretched in what he hoped was a casual manner and stood up.

“Weeell, it's getting late...in the morning...so, I'm gonna go, and –,”

“Don't.”

Lance faltered mid-stretch, sure he had imagined the short utterance that had forced its way out of the hunched paladin on the other side of the island, who did not look up from the paper cup he was still gripping.

“...Not yet,” he added, his voice quieter and less sharp than it had been a moment ago.

He did not elaborate, however, and Lance threw his lanky frame back down onto the stool without question, growing quiet again. Bony elbows settled over the countertop as he looked over at Keith, imploring, but Keith's eyes were still downcast, scowling vaguely into his cup.

“...Yeah, man. I'm not going anywhere.”

He nodded, then welcomed the silence back into their midst as he sat there and painstakingly watched Keith's fingers shake.

 


End file.
